A Long December
by QueenOfQuiet17
Summary: It was a crazy month that intoxicated them in ways they couldn't understand. But he would do it all over again if he could. Will/Karen inspired by the Counting Crows song of the same name. Now complete.
1. Before the Lights Go Out

_"If you think that I could be forgiven,  
I wish you would."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December" _

_January 4th_

_If I tell you that I'm sorry, will you meet me by the rink tonight?_

Braving the fierce cold of a new year for something that probably won't happen. Holding his breath when it would probably leave him blue in the face. Fighting for something that he probably won't get back. In an hour, the lights on the tree would go out for the night (it was always an odd wonder when he was here as the lights went out. You always thought that this was a constant, that it would never burn out), leaving him in the dark in more ways than one, if she didn't get here soon. He left the note, the last one in a long line of letters he had written to her, with Rosario while they were out (probably celebrating Stan's return from the West Coast, although she gave off the illusion of a distant marriage), a change of heart last-ditch attempt, before making his way here, through the gaudy neon brightness that draws the tourists. It's the reason he never spent any time around here after work. In all honesty, he hated how crowded Midtown got.

But he would put up with it for her. Always for her. It seemed to be the theme of the season. Forget the images of Santa in red, the reindeer getting ready for flight, elves hard at work and snowmen built as high as you can get them. Replace them with Karen; Karen in a silk red nightie, Karen lacing up her skates and getting ready to glide along the ice, Karen hard at work trying to forget the dire situation of her home life that led her to the comfort of another man's arms, Karen high above the streets at the balcony of her penthouse, looking down on it all with an orange glow at her fingertips from the cigarette dwindling down to ash.

'Tis the season.

The rink was still filled with people, getting their fill before it closed in two hours. It was amazing how much joy you could get from merely skating in circles on a patch of ice. It was her fascination with it that got him out on the ice in the first place—sure he had skated as a kid, and sure he and Grace had hit the rink a couple of times in their early years together but he never had a desire to go on his own. She never explained to him why she loved it so much; it never seemed like her scene and he certainly didn't peg her for the kind of New Yorker to stoop down to a tourist level. But he never questioned it, maybe because he never had time to.

It all happened so fast, and ended just as abruptly. December was a whirlwind month—and technically, it all started before December, at that damn party—but at the same time feeling long and tedious, contradicting itself and leaving him cold and bitter, like it somehow always did.

Except this time, the chill, the bitterness, had made its way into January. And he so desperately wanted to change that. He just wished that it didn't depend on whether or not she would show up tonight.

If it weren't for that crazy little whim that made him walk from his office across the street, past Radio City to the Plaza, they could have gone on their own ways like they always had. But he found himself at Rockefeller Center, found her with tears in her eyes staring down at the rink. And as much as he didn't want to bother her—anyone who associated with her knew the first rule was that she didn't show emotion—she unintentionally tugged on his heartstrings hard enough to pull him to her.

He didn't mean to kiss her. He didn't mean to cross that line, step over that boundary. He didn't mean to take advantage of her when she was down (although she told him over and over again that he didn't take advantage, that he never could). Then again, the entire month was filled with things they didn't mean to do, but were ultimately satisfying in spite of it all.

For the life of him, he could not understand why he fell so fast. Perhaps it was because they had already known each other for a while, there was no awkward "getting to know you" phase they had to conquer first. Perhaps it was because she both attracted and repulsed him at times that the combination became too intoxicating. Perhaps it was because she was different, so different in every way from the ones he normally went for, and more than anything, he wanted to shake his life up a little.

But it was probably because he told himself not to fall, since they knew it would be over in a month anyway. And it's always fun to go against what you've been told to do. Defying the norm. That was something he had picked up from her.

He only had what he knew. He knew the way the neon lights of Radio City made her shine brighter than any diamond she ever craved. He knew that in front of that famous tree, she felt so small and insignificant but she made him feel like the most important man in the world. He knew that it put a smile on his face every time she stopped to take in the smell coming from the honey-roasted cashew vendor on their way to Rockefeller Center, a quirk he had come to love. He knew that when they got on the ice, she held his hand so tight to keep from falling that he could feel her warmth radiating through her palm. He knew that as time went on, she loosened her grip, and he felt the chill come between them more and more. He knew that the last time they were on the ice, she didn't even hold on at all, skating ahead of him at times. He knew that was probably because they knew what was going to come after.

Maybe it was that inevitable ending that made him turn, that made him end it early. Forever plagued by the notion that he swooped in during her moment of weakness, and left her before she fully had a chance to recover. That was it. That was why December felt so damn long. That was why he had to go. Always looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to call him out, waiting for someone to point a finger at him, tell him he was a bad man. "This isn't what a decent human being would do, don't you know that?" Yes, on some level he did know this, but he chose to ignore the part of his conscience that told him. And it left him worrying inside that someone would expose him for the man he truly was. But it never happened, and his paranoia was enough to drag out the days.

And even though it felt like a long December, and even though he left before he was supposed to, the time wasn't enough. When is it ever enough? You want to be with the one you've fallen for, as long as you can; and once it's over, you're left longing for more. Always longing for more. Always longing for her.

He was reduced to a single question, in his longing.

_If I tell you that I'm sorry, will you meet me by the rink tonight?_ Almost like a bribe, acting as if she wouldn't come to meet him unless there was something in it for her (and such a pointless thing to offer her at that; what was an apology, anyway, but merely words?). With the way he left her that night, minutes before it became a new year, he figured she wouldn't be as willing to meet him as she used to be. How could he simply throw away all that they had come to build in the course of thirty-one days?

Oh, come on. That's a no-brainer. You knew you had to when you went into this, Will. You were foolish to think you would be able to do so without remorse. He had gotten so used to her touch, her smile, her laugh that was meant only for him, the way she lowered her voice at night while she was in bed next to him. And when he walked away from it, he realized that he wouldn't be able to live without it. And he wrote that feeble note, that poor excuse for communication, in the hopes that she would be able to find a drop of forgiveness amidst the sea of betrayal.

"Excuse me?"

The hope that soared through his body when he felt a tap on his shoulder was immediately dashed when he heard the voice. It wasn't Karen. It wasn't anyone he knew. He turned around to find a man hand in hand with his girlfriend, rosy-cheeked from the cold and smiles on their faces that automatically let him know they weren't from the city. Those smiles were "first time at Rockefeller Center" smiles. The man held a camera out in front of him. "Would you mind taking a picture of us in front of the tree?" he asked Will.

He took the camera with a nod. On Christmas Eve, he convinced Karen to take a picture like this with his camera, for their eyes only. "Don't you think that's going to lead to heartbreak?" she had asked. "Some digital reminder of what used to be, what we can't have anymore?" No, he told her with a smile. He merely wanted proof that at one time, they had been civil to each other. It was a joke, and she laughed along, but it was meant to mask the fact that he just wanted a reminder that once, there was love there. Once, there was passion. Once, he would have done anything for her. God…who was he kidding?

It could be fifteen years after the fact, and he'd still do anything for her.

With a click of a button, the strangers' smiling faces were captured on the small digital screen of the camera. He handed the camera back to the man, who mumbled his thanks, before turning back to the rink. Everything about this place was her. The ice, the lights, the feeling he got every time he set foot on the Plaza. It was all entangled with his memories of her, his images of her. In this place, she was inescapable.

So many people, despite the hour growing later. So many people wandering into stores, grabbing a quick bite to eat. So many people standing still, gazing at the wonder of the tree, even though Christmas had passed. So many people gliding along the ice hand in hand. So many people watching from above. He couldn't concentrate. He looked all over the Plaza, trying to get a glimpse of all the faces put before him. From behind, so many women looked like her. The same hair, the same colored coat. But as soon as they turned around, he was only set up for disappointment.

_If I tell you that I'm sorry, will you meet me by the rink tonight?_

Not much, but it was something, and he hoped she would respond to it. Because he'd been wandering around alone waiting for a second of her being. Waiting for her.

Always for her.


	2. Chin Up

_"The smell of hospitals in winter,  
And the feeling that it's all a bunch of oysters but no pearls.  
And all at once, you look across a crowded room  
To see the way that light attaches to a girl."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December" _

_November 29th_

He didn't know why he came. A little something—no, little isn't the right word; by the look of the place, they went all out—thrown together by Stan to celebrate the deal his company just made, the prospect of more money on top of the millions he didn't know what to do with, and since he was the one to handle the legal aspect of it all, he got an invite, surely just out of kindness. Stan Walker was not the kind of person Will would choose to socialize with during his free time. He always struck him as the kind of man who was only business, although maybe that's because every other time he's talked to him, they were in Will's office. He could have said no. He could have said he had plans already, but thanks for the invite. He could have said that he had a date that night. But he alone. And he was never a good liar.

He had nothing better to do with his night, so he found himself in the Walker penthouse, a champagne flute in hand, in the back corner of a room filled with people he didn't know and could care less about.

And then there was Karen, on the other side of the room, looking just as bored as he was. But something about the way the light of the room wrapped around her like that, illuminating her so she shone brighter than anyone at this party. Telling him that if there was any way to salvage the night, she would know how to do it. Telling him that she was going to be his life ring tonight, if he wanted to be saved. And although their relationship was never the most conventional, or the kindest he's ever had, he cared more about her than he could ever give a damn about any one of these suits and their money.

Will caught her attention for a quick second, raised his glass to her with a smile in acknowledgement, and he watched the corners of her mouth curl up before she went back to the conversation she was supposed to be in. One of Stan's colleagues had cornered them while they got a refill of their drinks, most likely about what the company had just accomplished, and Karen had no way out. Will was completely intrigued and absorbed in how she acted the entire night. He never pegged her as one who would constantly be in her husband's presence during events like this, and yet she hadn't left Stan's side at all so far tonight. And Stan barely acknowledged her, even with her arm linked with his.

He wondered if this is what she saw for herself all along, to be on the arm of a man who could buy and sell anyone just like that. But it didn't seem like much of a life. And Karen was better than that. He knew it.

The suit that had trapped the Walkers in conversation that was surely less than stimulating finally made his exit, leaving Stan to slide out of his wife's hold and circulate around the room, leaving her alone for the first time all evening. The light still had its grip on her, but she didn't seem like herself. The look in her eyes betrayed the stature she kept, a look of disappointment, with a hint of sadness. Will watched her as she downed the last of her drink, set it down on a table, and cut her way through the crowd, not even mumbling a "Hello" to the ones who were gracious enough to acknowledge her presence, and passed Will on her way to the staircase. She stopped in front of him, offered him a weary smile. "Hi," she said softly.

"Hey. Is everything alright? You didn't look too thrilled over there."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…can't really take this anymore," she said before excusing herself and walking up the stairs. Later on, he would learn that she wasn't just talking about the party. Later on, he would learn just how loaded that statement was. But for now, he just wanted to make sure she was truly alright.

He followed her up the stairs, saw that the door on the far end of the hallway was opened just a crack, the dim light from the room she just entered spilling into the hall. Had the light from downstairs followed her along with him? Will got to the other side of the hall, opened the door further to see Karen lying down on a bed, her legs dangling over the side. This couldn't be the master bedroom; it was far too small for that. Maybe something they had made up for their guests, although Karen rarely talked of anyone spending any time at the penthouse other than a visit. She didn't seem to notice his entrance, made no move to greet him, only let out a deep sigh as she covered her face with her hands.

"Not in the mood for a party?"

Karen bolted up, propped herself on her elbows, at the sound of his voice. He expected her to yell at him, he expected her to order him to get out. Instead, she rested herself back down on the bed and replied, "They bore me. I needed a break."

"I'd have thought you would have gotten used to this kind of thing by now."

She let a laugh escape her lips. "Oh honey," she said. "I'm used to it. It doesn't mean I like it." A pause, a silence that weighed them down. They weren't the closest of friends, it was obvious as soon as you looked at them. Still, this was a silence heavier than they were used to, and Karen wanted so desperately to break it. "Why did you come here tonight?" she asked him finally. "I never thought you would actually accept Stan's invitation."

Will gave a shrug that she couldn't see as he took in his surroundings. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to put in an appearance." He turned his gaze to a small end table by the bed. The lamp settled on top of it lit up the notebook and pen resting on one edge, a small rectangular jewelry box on the other. He picked the box up, lifted the top to find a silver heart-shaped locket inside. Will had never seen it around Karen's neck before, and at the same time, it looked like it had seen a lot of wear. It was a beautiful piece, but it didn't seem like Karen's taste.

"My father gave that to me as a gift the last Christmas I spent with him." Will jumped at the sound of her voice. He turned towards the bed to see Karen sitting upright, resting on her hands, with a faint smile on her face. Immediately, he felt horrible for intruding on her space, but she didn't seem to mind it, and it put him a little more at ease. "The chain…" she said, motioning around her neck, "It doesn't fit me anymore, and I haven't worn it since."

"You never got another chain to put the locket on?"

"I never got a chance to, for one reason or another."

Will studied her, almost nervous to continue. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk about your father. About anyone in your family, for that matter."

Karen shrugged. "There's nothing to talk about. He died when I was seven years old. I didn't get much time with him. I don't need pity. It happens." She paused for a moment before she spoke again. "God…if he could only see me now. I'm nothing like I used to be. He wouldn't even recognize me anymore."

"I still think he'd be proud of you for what you've accomplished."

"Which isn't much." With that comment, the light in her eyes started to dim. Will closed the box and put it back on the end table before sitting down beside Karen, resting his hand against her back. She didn't flinch; it was unprecedented. Then again, the last few minutes were, too.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Karen. You do a lot more than you think you do. I wish you were able to see that." They stayed like that for a while, neither of them making a move to leave. They could hear the sounds of the party downstairs, people on the ground floor enjoying the conversation, the booze. It didn't mesh with the atmosphere one floor above, an atmosphere heavy with deep contemplation mixed with a hint of regret. If they stayed here any longer, it would become too toxic. Will knew it. "What do you say we get out of here, go get a drink? My treat," he suggested. "I think we both need one, and we're not going to feel any better if we stay here."

Karen looked at him as her smile grew wider. "You're sweet," she said to him. Words he never expected her to utter, much less about him, and he sat there, stunned. "I shouldn't. This is what I signed up for," she said, referring to her marriage, all the obligations that came along with it. "I should stick it out." Karen stood up, made her way towards the door, getting ready to join her husband once again. She looked back to Will. "But thanks for the offer," she said. "I appreciate the kindness."

And with that, she was gone.

Will stood up, ready to leave the penthouse. He couldn't take the party much longer. Before he left, he opened up the notebook, and turned to a clean page, making sure not to read what she had written on the previous pages—it was obviously her curved handwriting. He already invaded her privacy once tonight, with the locket. He didn't want to go for two in the course of ten minutes. He grabbed the pen on the end table, and wrote something to her. Simple, sweet, probably insignificant. But he got the feeling that she didn't hear it, or see it, nearly as often as she should.

_Chin up. You'll be okay._

He didn't know when she would see it, when she would even be in this room next; this place was so huge, he wondered sometimes if she had even seen every room in her home yet. But it would be there, waiting for her, whenever she decided to come back. He left the notebook open to the page he had written on, turned the lamp off. He made his way downstairs, towards the front door. Before he left, he looked around the room to see where Karen was. She had found Stan, and was back where he saw her in the first place. She looked over to him and gave him a smile, a quick wave. He waved back before walking out the door.

And on the way home, he couldn't shake that last image of her, how the light that wrapped around her before regained its strength, and illuminated her.


	3. Keeping Up with Tradition

_December 1st_

She wanted to believe the tears were from the fierce wind whipping in every direction but she knew that wasn't true. The lights on the tree, the bustle of skaters on the rink below, kids on the shoulders of their fathers marveling at this small patch of land that turns into an absolute wonderland one month out of the year. She looked around at the smiles on virtually every face surrounding her, her vision blurred by the well of saline she couldn't shake. She tried to plaster a smile on her face, the edges of her lips curling upward, but she could tell it only looked pained on the outside, because is sure as hell hurt her on the inside. Everyone was supposed to love Christmastime in Rockefeller Center.

Karen hated the way it made her feel.

It wasn't the fact that she was alone; Karen was quite used to that. Stan left for California last night, continuing the business he celebrated the other night, business that would keep him away until the first of January, with little more of a goodbye than nod of the head and a "See you next month." Alone for Christmas, alone for New Year's—it wasn't the fact that she would become the clichéd lonely soul of the holidays that bugged her. She thought back to years past, even as recent as two or three years ago, and remembered Christmases and New Year's celebrations that were warm, inviting, filled with love. On those days, everything was okay. On those days, Stan could say "I love you" and she knew he meant it. But that hasn't happened in a long time, and she knew that they were headed for inevitable divorce. But she could take care of herself; that wasn't why she was bitter among all this joy.

It wasn't even the fact that the happy families surrounding her were like reminders scattered along the Plaza of what she had failed to achieve with Stan and his kids. _His_ kids…they never really liked her anyway, thought she was there merely to stomp whatever memory of a family they had into the ground even though she made an effort to make it seem otherwise, and any sense of a stable home life was a distant dream. True, she had never been good with kids, but it didn't mean she didn't care. But there was no use telling that to anyone; you believe what you want to believe. You believe that she's an ice queen because you want to. You see the money and the jewels and you believe that she's a socialite snob, all because you want to, all because it fits with your generic picture of how the "upper class" handles itself. Karen slid into that role, anyway; it was easier to go along with it than to try and prove everyone wrong at every possible turn.

It was the fact that her father had taken her to Rockefeller Center from upstate every year for Christmas before he died. It was the fact that after that last Christmas with him, the tightly tied ribbons around her life had loosened, letting everything fall from its grasp and shatter to the ground. It was the fact that those times with her father had made her feel safe, and ever since his passing, she had been hopelessly searching for that sense of security but never found it. It was the fact that every time she set foot on the Plaza, his memory was inescapable, and the lump in her throat and the tears in her eyes were inevitable. And they stung. God, how they stung.

It was a sick chain of events. But she came here at least once every year (lately, it had been at least six, seven, even eight times a year) since finally planting her roots in Manhattan, as if it were some sort of ritual she had to perform in memory of her father.

They told her after he died that he would always live on through her. But she wasn't too thrilled with the way she carried herself to begin with. Dad deserved far better than that.

No one knew that she did this; how would she be able to explain it without delving too deeply into her past? It took her years to finally put the grave details of her childhood and adolescence on the backburner of her mind, and she wasn't about to offer it up so willingly. "Oh, well, my father died when I was a kid, and this is really the only thing I can cling to that reminds me of him." Karen didn't need a pity party over her sob story.

Well. She wouldn't mind telling someone. Just as long as they didn't make a big deal about it.

But the one thing that irked her was that Stan didn't even know about her annual venture to Rockefeller Center. Stan, her husband, the one person she was allowed to share everything with. She knew what he would do; he would scoff, not at the sentimentality of it all, but merely for the fact that she would be that eager to walk among the tourists with their big eyes and gaping mouths, taking in something that, in his opinion, wasn't too spectacular to begin with (then why did you take her skating on the rink the first couple of years you were dating, Stanley? Was it just to impress her, to show that, if you had to, you would be willing to put up with it?). And, in all honesty, she would love to tell him, if she thought it would be safe to do so. But she never got that feeling from him.

No. That wasn't entirely true. At one point, she did get that feeling from him. But it was such a fleeting moment that she didn't recognize it at first, and when she did, it was too late.

And while she loved Jack, she knew she could never tell him about this. It all came back to believing what you want to believe. Karen knew the image he had of her—some high class wonder woman without a care in the world, and with that much money, who could possibly be blue?—and she knew right away that to fill him in on something this personal would only confuse and alienate him. And Grace wouldn't let it go if Karen decided to confide in her; sure, she'd show a little compassion, but underneath it all, she would take a little pride in knowing that the woman made of stone had a few cracks in her foundation.

But Will…Will was a different story. She could never figure out exactly where she stood with him, and his sensitivity at the party the other night blurred the line even further. Not to mention the note he left her. _Chin up. You'll be okay._ Karen went back to the spare bedroom after the party ended and found the note waiting for her, could see those words in his handwriting even now; she couldn't tell you how much those two sentences—such succinct ones at that—warmed her heart. Just to know that someone cared about something other than the money, the status. She had gone to him before, when she had problems with Stan and considered divorce—not the first time, but one of the first—and he had helped her. But she was a client then, not solely a friend. There was a confidentiality that he was bound by. If she were to tell him about this now, would that security still be there?

Probably not. She'd like to think it would be. But probably not. And that meant what she already knew to be true from the start. She could never fully depend on anyone. She was alone.

It was something that didn't even faze her anymore.

She found a spot to watch the skaters that was separate from the crowds, rested her head against her fist. She would take her father's hand and join the tourists on the ice, clinging for dear life to him for fear of falling. Uncertain on her feet, she would always start out slow, wobbling, trying to find her balance on the skates. Her father was never impatient with her. He was never angry that she couldn't move faster, or that others were skating circles around them when she could barely master a straight line. To him, everything she did was wonderful, everything she did made him proud. It was the first time she felt like she was good, no matter what she was capable of.

Little did she know back then, it would also be the last time. She tried to find it everywhere, and married the men she did because she honestly believed that they always saw her as a good person. She felt safe with them, at some point in their relationship. And she tried to hold on to it as tightly as she could, trying so desperately to make it work. But as time went on, the feeling wore off. And little by little, after two failed marriages and a third surely to be on the way, she was starting to lose hope.

With everyone's gaze towards the skaters or the tree, which had just been lit, Karen was free to let the well spill over as she followed the circle of skaters with her eyes. All the while, she was grateful that she was here. No one she knew would dare set foot into one of the biggest tourist spots in the city. No one she knew would be able to discover that she was freer with her emotions than she let on.

She wouldn't have to explain herself to anyone.

It was part of the reason she loved Manhattan so much. It doesn't matter how many people walk the streets, occupy the apartments that cost more than they're probably worth; at the end of the day, you could still feel lonely, completely and utterly alone, in a sea of people. But then, just when you least expect it, someone can reach out and touch you. Someone can reach out and make you feel like you're not simply drowning in an ocean of anonymity. Most of the time, she loved that part of Manhattan too. But not today. Of all days, she just wanted to be alone, to float above the water without a name, without a face, without an identity.

And like everything else, it was not to come to her easily, if at all.

She should have known.

"Are you okay?"

Damn it.

If the hand on her shoulder startled her, the voice made her absolutely petrified. Not him. Anyone would have been okay, anyone but him. While everyone else was intimidated by her, he was the only one who could stand up, who could face her head-on. While everyone else simply shook their heads at what she had to say, he took it to heart. He listened. He remembered. He wouldn't be able to let this go.

No matter, anyway. He already found you, Karen.

She turned around to look him in the eye.

And she didn't know what killed her more: the fact that she was so visibly crying, or the fact that Will was standing before her, his eyes full of concern.


	4. By Chance

_December 1st_

"Are you okay?"

He didn't expect her face to be so tear-stained when she turned around. To be fair, he didn't even expect to spend his lunch break in Rockefeller Center. But from his window, he could just make out Radio City across the street, the tree above the sign for the music hall, and he figured that, just this once, he would make the short but arduous journey to the Plaza to take in the holiday spirit before going back to work. The crowds were awful, always moving at a ridiculously slow pace in order to take in the sights, always stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. It was why he liked to take solace in areas like Greenwich Village; sure, there were still people there, but it wasn't as crowded, it wasn't as unnecessarily bright and flashy.

Never did he think that he would see anyone he knew by the ice rink—even Grace stopped going with him years ago, when they realized that they didn't need to see it every year, that it never changed. So when he thought he saw Karen, he chalked it up to his eyes playing tricks on him. There was no way she would ever be caught in a place like this, a place filled with the people she thought she was better than, a place filled with the ones she'd never associate with. But then she made a move to brush the hair out of her eyes, turned her head a little too much to the left, and he knew in an instant that it was her, and…no, she couldn't be. She never did that, at least not in public. Leave that to the privacy of your own home, or at least some place where you can be alone. Grace told him once how she walked in on Karen like this, after one of Stan's health scares, but he always thought it was something you had to see to believe. And he never saw it.

Until now. It was right in front of him, and he didn't fully believe it. Maybe it was because all the other times her life seemed to be in crisis, she always kept a brave face. She never let any guard down. She was a rock. And a rock never did this.

Was she crying?

Will moved closer to her as he watched her pull her hand out of her glove and wipe her eyes. In that moment, she wasn't that one person you always saw but could never touch. In that moment, she became fragile. She became human. And he was overcome with the desire to try and make it better. It was in no way how their relationship worked. But he was already faced with one abnormality;. He reached out to her, put his hand on her shoulder. But when she turned to face him at the sound of his voice, she jumped, immediately became startled and defensive.

"Jesus," she let out with a gasp. "You scared me. Didn't think I would run into anyone. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" she asked roughly. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I could ask the same of you," he said with a smile, something he hoped was comforting rather than snide. "I'm on my lunch break. I figured I'd come around and see what all the fuss was about. It's been a long time since I've been here." He let a moment of silence pass between them as her gaze slowly moved back to the ice. He didn't know whether to ask her why she was here, or ask her why she was crying. Instead, he opted for, "Look, I can leave if you want to be alone. I didn't mean to surprise you or anything." Will turned to leave when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his coat.

"No," she said softly. "Don't go."

The fragility that plagued her stature had seeped into her voice as she slid her hand down to his and let it linger there for a moment. She sniffed and sighed before she summoned enough strength in her voice to continue.

"I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't be doing this. God, I don't even know why I started." Well. That was a brilliant lie. But he didn't need to know the complicated spiral that led her to this moment. He probably wouldn't be that interested anyway.

"Don't apologize, Karen. You're human. It happens." Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, and instead of feeling her resistance like he fully expected, Karen relaxed into her friend's embrace. When she looked up at him, he found hope in her eyes, once the tears started to dry. She gave him a weak smile, looked as though she was beginning to trust him more and more. And while it should have warmed him, the fact that she would put her trust in him, he couldn't help but be saddened by it all. How long had it been since someone made her feel like she didn't have to apologize for simply being herself?

At what point did she think it would be okay to swallow down her emotions, so that they never see the light of day?

Will hadn't been able to stop thinking about her, the way she acted at the party, their private conversation and the note he left before he made his way back to Riverside Drive. He wondered if she read it, if she had even gone back into the spare bedroom after all their guests had gone home and it was just the two of them, Stan on his way to bed. Maybe that room still had the heavy atmosphere that he tried to get her away from, only to be shot down—graciously, kindly, but shot down nonetheless.

"Have you ever been out on the ice before?" he asked her suddenly, some last resort effort to try and turn the conversation around to something lighter. "Or are you too much of a New Yorker to consider that socially acceptable?" he added as a joke, just to see if he could get her to laugh.

There it was, a simple melody, but so precious, so gorgeous, in its simplicity, as she looked away from him towards the skaters below. "It's been a long time. I think maybe the first Christmas I spent with Stan was the last time I skated on the rink. He hates it out here. I don't know why he did it for me that one time, but he hasn't been out here since. At least not that I know of." Her eyes met his once again. "And you? Do you go for this kind of thing, or are you too jaded?"

"I haven't skated, let alone in Rockefeller Center, in years. Grace and I stopped after a while. I just never thought of coming out here again."

"I wouldn't mind going for another round sometime."

By the tone of her voice, Will could tell that she thought of this as wishful thinking. They both knew Stan wouldn't make his way down here, braving tourists and families with their holiday traditions, just to skate around to the tune of overplayed Christmas songs for an hour or two.

"Well, maybe sometime you'd like to join me. Stan doesn't have to know, although I'm sure that's not an issue anyway; I'm assuming you don't let him know you come here to begin with. It would be nice to get back out there again, see if I'm as steady on my feet as I used to be. That is, if you don't mind having me for company," he said to her.

Karen let a smile grow wide across her face. "I'd really like that. You know…to make up for that drink I missed out on." Maybe it was the fact that she was beginning to let him in the other night, although he would have expected her to forget all about it the next day. But he loved this newfound kindness in their friendship, loved the fact that she would want to return to this spot with him. In all honesty, he didn't think Karen would even want to spend her time here, like that. But this time of year does things to people, inexplicable but punctual, coming along every single year. It always does.

Which is why he couldn't help it when it happened.

"Come on, let's get out of the cold. Did you eat yet? Let me take you to lunch," he said before he kissed her cheek, tasting a hint of saline as he did so. It was a friendly gesture; that's how he meant it, originally. But the way he lingered for just a second too long without realizing it, the way she didn't seem to care that he did, was what triggered whatever it was that made him want this. He couldn't stop himself. He caught her lips with his own while he was pulling away, brought her in closer, oblivious to anyone around them who may or may not be watching.

She didn't pull away; she didn't want to. Any signal to the conscious part of her being that would make her realize just who was on the other end of the kiss wasn't about to be sent. Or maybe she was fully aware. Maybe she knew full well that it was Will's lips against her own. With the unexpected time they spent together at the party the other night, and now with this surprise encounter at Rockefeller Center, she had already let all the standards and implications of their relationship fly out the window.

She knew full well what she was doing. And she didn't mind it.

Karen was fascinated by the way his lips tasted. He tasted like safety. He tasted like comfort. And as much as she wanted to stop, to pull away before it went on any longer, she couldn't bring herself to end it now.

As much as she didn't want to say it, thinking of everything it implied, thinking of everything she would have to deal with in its aftermath, she loved it.

But then…

He was the one to pull away first. He was the one to look startled, confused, and…oh god, please don't let that be regret (he obviously wanted it, since he was the one to start it…right?). He was the one to stutter, unable to think of what to say, having just fully realized the gravity of what he had done. And, like a child, he was the one to back away and run, on his way back to his office.

He was the one to leave Karen, a little more broken than she was when she first got to the Plaza.


	5. Reciprocation

_December 2nd_

What the hell was his problem?

He couldn't believe himself; in one swift motion, he managed to ruin the odd yet easy and wonderful new connection that he was so quickly forming with her. It was the cheek that did it. It had to have been the cheek. If he hadn't have kissed her cheek, they would have gone to lunch, went their separate ways. They would have been done with it. But he tasted the tears on her cheek, the vulnerability, the side of her he had never seen before, and it got the better of him. And he didn't know what surprised him more: the fact that he did it, or the fact that she didn't pull away, and he got the feeling that she wouldn't have pulled away even if he kept it going.

So where did that leave him? Lying on the couch in the living room in the pitch dark of the early December night, mind racing at one in the morning, thanking whatever powers are at work that Grace had the ability to sleep through a tornado and couldn't be woken up under any circumstances once she fell asleep, because he knew that if she were still awake and found him on the couch, he would have to talk about it. It would become more real than he ever wanted it to be.

Karen wasn't what Will was used to, on more than the obvious level. But it wasn't the fact that she was a woman that tripped him up—or maybe that fact hadn't fully sunken in yet. It was everything that she entailed that was driving him crazy tonight, making him lose sleep. She was married. He became something he never wanted to be. But to be fair, does anyone really take on the world with the objective of committing adultery? And if he had to be honest, he wasn't happy lately. Putting on a brave front when you're alone only works when you believe it. And he was always a lousy actor. Stan had left for the West Coast. Karen was alone and visibly down when he saw her in the afternoon. It was a crazy math equation that was bound to equal disaster.

It wasn't right; he knew that. He shouldn't want it. Taking advantage of another man's wife while he was thousands of miles away and unable to do anything about it. That's what this was. Some crazy rare public moment of weakness and he went in for the kill. He became someone he never met before, but intrigued him all the same. It shouldn't intrigue him. He shouldn't have wanted that kiss by the tree, because he was beginning to realize that he did in fact want it. He shouldn't have wanted her touch. He shouldn't still want it, hours after the fact.

But he did. Against everything inside him telling him he shouldn't, he did. And it terrified and exhilarated him that he couldn't figure out the reason behind it.

It didn't matter anyway. He hadn't heard from Karen all day after Rockefeller Center—not that he made any attempt at getting a hold of her for fear of it being too awkward a situation for them to handle. He had no reason to believe she even remotely felt the same way. You're losing sleep for nothing, Will. Just get up, go to bed, try to get some rest. Wait until the morning. Wait for some perspective. Just wait.

Will sat up, ran his hands along his face before standing up and padding his way towards his bedroom. He wasn't accomplishing anything now. There was no use in trying to untangle the situation when he didn't fully understand how it happened in the first place. He held on to the mantle of the fireplace for support, trying not to bump into anything on his way to his bed.

But a soft knock on the door kept him from achieving even the smallest feat of making it to the bedroom.

Who the hell was knocking at this hour? It had to have been someone who mistook his apartment for someone else's; no one he knew would be here unannounced. He made his way to the front door, ready to tell whoever was on the other end that they made a mistake. But when he looked through the door's peep hole, and saw who was on the other side, he froze.

He was fully willing to wait until the sun came up for some perspective.

But she wasn't so patient.

* * *

God, she hoped he was still awake.

It took Karen until she was in the cab, halfway to Riverside Drive and hurtling faster and faster towards her destination, to convince herself that she was doing the right thing by going over to his apartment. She couldn't stop thinking about Rockefeller Center this afternoon, the beautiful generosity he had been showing her the past couple of days. The kiss. Oh, the kiss. If she knew what his motives were, what was going on through his mind when he leaned in the second time to catch her lips, maybe she would have been free to enjoy it a little more.

Although she didn't think she'd be able to enjoy it any more than she already had.

It scared her, really, how she liked to feel his skin connect with hers, his lips blending with her own, not so much because she was married and because she was supposed to be faithful to the one she pledged her heart to, but because she was so willing for it to be him. The last person in the world anyone would have expected her to feel this way about. But it was that reason that made it seem inevitable at the same time. And whether it was solely that reason, or if it was mixed with the fact that she had been miserable for so long she couldn't remember what it meant to be a part of something like this, she didn't want it to end, despite everything that tried to convince her otherwise.

Will made her feel like she was good, like she was free to be herself, instead of this image she had gotten so used to portraying. Even when Stan was away, she kept up the charade, knowing that it would surely get back to him if she wasn't careful. But in that moment, surrounded by a mass of strangers, she felt like it was just the two of them. And in that moment, she felt like it was okay to slip out of the costume, into something a little more comfortable. She just didn't realize how comfortable she would actually get with him.

She didn't mean for any of this to happen. But then again, the best things come when they aren't meant to happen.

Tonight, Karen was overcome with the desire to apologize; for what, she wasn't exactly sure. Sorry for being at the same inexplicable place at the same time? Sorry for letting him believe that she was this hard, stoic being only to shatter that image at his first sight of her? Sorry for not pulling away?

He was the one to kiss her. She didn't force herself onto him. On some level, he had to have wanted it. So maybe the only thing she had to apologize for was the fact that she let him run, that she didn't have a chance to reciprocate. And if she had to be honest, that was the thing that hurt her the most. She didn't have a chance to reciprocate.

But she was going to change that.

It was late, Karen was well aware of that, but she knew that she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight if she didn't at least try to talk to him. When the elevator doors opened to reveal his apartment, she felt the nervousness coursing through her body, pangs of vulnerability hitting her with every step. Knock softly, wait a few seconds. Knock again. But if he doesn't answer, just leave, Karen. Don't put yourself through more than you have to.

Will opened the door with a look of complete bafflement, hesitated for a moment before leaving her room to slide through the doorway. He looked like he hadn't gone to bed yet; that just woken up, weary feeling was nowhere to be found. Was he racking his brain trying to rationalize what happened, just as much as she was? They stood in silence for a moment, Karen unable to find the right words for what she wanted to say. The door was still open; she could flee the scene, there was still a chance. But she had come too far now. It wouldn't be right.

"I never got to thank you," she whispered softly, for fear of waking Grace down the hall, settling on something neutral to break the ice. She shut the door behind her. "For the note you left me. I saw it once everyone left that night."

"Karen, I…" Here it comes. The explanation. All before she had a chance to do what she came here to do.

His speech was stopped when she put her finger to his lips in an attempt to silence him. "Don't say anything," she said with a smile before she pressed her lips against his. God, it was just as sweet as it was in the bitter cold of Midtown. But she knew that she had to pull away. She knew that he could run again. She knew that she could be back where she started. But she had to find out if he felt the same way. "I, um…" she fumbled as she pulled away from him. "I just…wanted to…" Wanted to what? Even now, Karen wasn't one hundred percent sure of what her intentions were. To reciprocate, yes, but she wasn't about to admit that outright. She didn't know how to finish that sentence, so she simply kept her mouth shut, and waited for him to do something. Anything.

It was too dark for her to clearly see the look in his eyes. Too dark for her to clearly see anything about him. But the way they stood still, the way they made no move after she pulled away from his lips, made her uneasy. It was too heavy, too long. It gave her too much time for her mind to jump into places she didn't want it to go. She went too far. She crossed the line. He was going to ask her to leave, and she would have to pretend like nothing ever happened.

But in one swift motion that took her a moment to register, Will had her in his arms, pressed her back against the front door, his lips grazing the "L" of her neck and shoulder. His fingers traveled up her spine as she held him tighter, closer to her. Blame it on loose inhibitions due to a lack of sleep. Blame it on the night, when these things are prone to happen anyway. Blame it on whatever you wanted. Karen was going to let it take its course. And as she ran her fingers through his hair and connected with his lips, as his heart beat next to hers, she didn't care that it was wrong. She didn't care that someone could walk in. She only cared about one thing.

She was able to reciprocate.


	6. Sweet Insanity

_December 2nd_

He didn't know what scared him more: the fact that he woke up in bed next to a sleeping Karen, or the fact that Grace was calling for him and just barely opened his bedroom door before making her way out to the living room.

It was Grace's voice that jerked him out of his slumber in the first place, surprisingly loud for just having woken up. Maybe it was the fact that his door was closed when it never was, and it threw her off. Maybe it was just Grace being a little nosy. But when she first called out "Will, are you awake?" he jumped, winced at the sunlight pouring in through his window. It seemed too early for him to start the day, but Grace's voice was insistent. And as his eyes slowly opened, wider and wider, to reveal his surroundings, it soon registered with him that he was not alone. If it hadn't have been for the fact that she was sleeping soundly next to him, he would have been able to shrug everything that happened last night as a dream.

Will did not have sex with Karen last night; he knew this for a fact. Her dress was lying in a pile on the floor next to her side of the bed, it had all the appearances of it, but he wouldn't have gone that far. At least not so soon after they started…what did they even start? Could you even put a name to what was going on between them? After they pulled away from their kiss, she lingered in his arms for a moment, and he knew that he didn't want her going home alone tonight. So he asked her to stay the night—"it doesn't have to mean anything, I swear. You just…you shouldn't be by yourself" he had thrown in quickly—climbed into bed as he watched her slide out of her dress, leaving her dress slip on to sleep in. He didn't object when she made her way to his bed; as long as she stayed on the other side, it would be okay.

He was completely enthralled by the way her chest rose and fell as her breathing evened out into deep slumber. He was completely enthralled by the way she looked so peaceful in her sleep; god, he couldn't remember a time he had ever seen her as carefree as she was then. It was as if all of her problems had simply melted away, and her dreamland was the most serene place possible. It made him smile, because of how beautiful she was, and it killed him, because he realized that her dreamland was the only place she had to escape all that was plaguing her.

Maybe he could change that.

In all honesty, he expected to wake up alone in the morning. He would have thought that her eyes would flutter open before his, take one look at him and run. Because if the kiss was confusing enough, this was off the charts. But as he looked over to the other side of the bed, he found Karen, still soundly asleep, still just as peaceful and carefree as she was before he closed his eyes, completely unaware of the noise coming from the hallway. In that moment, he was overwhelmed once again with the desire to make her just as serene once she woke up.

But he'd have to deal with Grace first.

Will grabbed the journal lying on his nightstand, tore out a blank page and grabbed a pen, scribbled a little something for Karen and got dressed. He had promised a breakfast date with Grace downtown before spending the day together wandering the city, something he completely forgot about when he asked Karen to stay. Grace was always taken by the decorated store windows and the lights scattered along the island, wanting to see as much of them as she could. A couple of years ago, they started making a tradition out of it, going anywhere that looked festive enough, starting in SoHo and walking as far as they could before their legs gave out and they had to hail a cab. They avoided Rockefeller Center, if only to stay away from the crowds. Maybe this year, he could convince her to make a stop. Just this once.

He took one last look at Karen before closing the bedroom door behind him. God, he hated to leave her alone like this, but he didn't know what else to do, and hoped she would find the note he left by her pillow; there was no way he could ever explain something like this to Grace. "Oh, well, she just came by in the middle of the night and ended up in my bed, but I swear it's not what it looks like"? He'd sound every bit as insane as he felt. But the funny thing was that this insanity felt nothing like he would expect it to.

In fact, insanity felt pretty good.

"Hey," Grace greeted with a bright smile, too bright for nine in the morning, but Will shrugged it off as excitement for the day's adventure. She wrapped a scarf around her neck before sliding into her wool coat. "Are you ready to go?" With a nod, he put on his coat and opened the front door for her. "Why was your door closed this morning?" she asked as they walked out towards the elevator.

"I must have done it without thinking last night," he said quickly, the best excuse he could come up with. At that moment, he didn't realize how much that sentence described the last few days. But it didn't matter anyway. As the elevator traveled down to the ground floor, he didn't want to be walking in all directions of Manhattan in the bitter cold.

He wanted to stay with Karen.

* * *

_Good morning,_

_I'm sorry I can't stay. I had promised Grace a day out. Truth is, I'm not exactly in the mood for it, but I made a commitment. Hope you slept well._

_Meet me Monday evening at Rockefeller Center?_

Karen sat in a coffeehouse in Greenwich Village, nursing a vanilla latte and studying the note Will left under her pillow this morning. She needed the solace and quiet of downtown, and remembering one of Will's offhand comments about his love for the Village, she decided to make her way down, finding a coffeehouse inhabited by only a few customers, and walked in. Will. It saddened her somehow, not to wake up next to him. But unlike some of the other men who have walked in and out of her life, it wasn't out of disrespect. When she found that little piece of lined paper folded in half, she knew that he was different. Then again, she had a feeling that he was different all along.

_Truth is, I'm not exactly in the mood for it, but I made a commitment_. Was that his way of saying he'd rather be with her today?

"Didn't expect to see you here." She jumped back into reality to find Will standing across the table from her, two cups of coffee in hand. "Grace is in the bookstore down the street, I figured we could both use a pick-me-up. God, I don't remember the walk from SoHo being this long." He took a seat at the table, started speaking again without giving her a chance to respond. "Look, I wanted to talk to you anyway. About what's been happening. I'm taking advantage of you for reasons I can't comprehend, and I'm sorry."

Karen tried to stifle her laugh, but her smile let it slip. "Will," she started. "If you think what you're doing is taking advantage of me, then you seriously need to rework your definition of that phrase." She watched as his features grew softer. Did he really think she was upset at him? How could she be, when she was the one who started it all last night, when she so clearly wanted it too? "If I knew what was making me do all of this, I would fill you in. But I think half the fun is in not knowing."

"You're married. Stan's only gone for a month. All the odds are against us." He looked defeated, almost. As if everything he ever wanted was right in front of him, but an impenetrable sheet of glass separated him from it.

"They would be against us even if Stan weren't an issue. He comes back in January, we'd have to stop. But we could prepare ourselves for it. And in the meantime, we'll just take it as it comes, go with wherever it takes us. So don't think about any of that. If it's what you want, it's what you want." She hesitated, looking him straight in the eye. "So what do you want?"

"I want to keep seeing you, Karen." Will's smile was small, but it was there, and shining brighter than the fluorescent lights in the coffeehouse.

Karen picked up the note he left her this morning, unfolded it once again, held it up so his handwriting was facing him. "In that case," she said, "I'll be there on Monday."

"Make sure you bundle up. We'll be in the cold for a while." Will stood up, got ready to leave; Grace was surely wondering what was keeping him so long. But before he left, he leaned in, brushed his lips against Karen's and whispered a goodbye.

As she watched him walk out the door, she had no regrets. What Stanley didn't know wasn't going to hurt him; for all she knew, he was doing the same thing—he had sworn he never would, but plans change. People change. She's changing. She won't settle. She won't let an opportunity to be happy pass her by. She held her fingers to her lips, still able to feel his kiss. She wondered if that feeling would stay if she kept her hand pressed there, as if blocking it from escape. Monday in Rockefeller Center. Monday in Will's arms. She couldn't have pictured a more perfect evening.

But suddenly, she thought of Stan and the fact that she was about to betray him. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the feeling that walking away from this come January won't be as easy as she said it would be.

And just like that, she was pulled back into the dark.


	7. A Good Wife

_"I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving  
Oh, the days go by so fast."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December" _

_January 4th_

Exactly one month ago, she first set out on the ice with Will. One month ago, she felt the wind whipping around her body and Will's arms wrapped around her waist, and felt that she could easily soar farther than the rink would allow. One month ago, she didn't feel so alone in a sea of people. One month ago, she was sleeping in the same bed with someone and actually felt like she was with him.

Now, she was sleeping in the same bed with someone, but she felt cold and alone. Stan would never notice, but she felt so alone. The bed might as well be empty.

Stan came home three nights ago, and she couldn't figure out which one of them was the less enthusiastic one. But she tried. She tried to make him feel welcomed, tried to make him feel as though he entered a warm home where they could make up for lost time. She put on the brightest false smile she possibly could and waited in the foyer for the front door to open. And when it finally did, he looked up for a brief second, said hello, and fixed his gaze back to the floor as he rolled his suitcase past her. He didn't mention his trip; he simply got in the shower and went to bed, leaving his suitcase to be unpacked in the morning.

It made her ache for Will's arms.

If she had been able to muster the courage to follow him as he walked out New Year's Eve, she would have. She would have told him how this home only feels like home when he's here, when the sheets of the bed smell like him, when the music of his voice warms the coldest of rooms. She would have packed a suitcase. She would have stayed with him if he let her (and she knew he would let her). She would have, she would have, she would have…

Because it would have been a hell of a lot better than sitting in the spare bedroom alone now, desperately trying to remember the last thing Will said before he walked out the door.

The spare bedroom. She couldn't be here anymore without thinking of him. It became their space, a place that no one else knew about, or if they did, they didn't care enough to enter. It's been four days…was the smell of his shampoo still embedded in the pillow? The warmth of his body was surely gone from the right side of the bed, but maybe the smell of his shampoo was still there. But she didn't want to check, for fear of the disappointment and sadness that was bound to overcome her when that familiar and comforting scent was no longer there.

This spare bedroom was once a place of solace for her, a place that Stan never went in, a place that Stan had likely forgotten about, where she could be alone when she didn't want to play the role of the socialite wife (because that was all she ever amounted to; at least that was what she thought). But now that she shared this space with Will, and she connected this space with Will, he became inescapable whenever she walked through the door. And she hasn't been able to find another place of her own.

Karen couldn't even say that she didn't remember Will's final words because a lot of time had passed since his exit. It had been four days. The heartbreak was still there, and won't go away. The ache was still there, and comes in waves; it hits harder when Stan turns in bed and brushes up against her accidentally, or when he kisses her in public, almost as if to keep up appearances. But his words have disappeared, not because it had been so long since he spoke them, but because she was so absorbed in the sight of him leaving that she was not able to hear what he said as he walked away.

She picked up a box that was resting on the nightstand, opened the top to reveal all the notes he had written her in their one-month…she couldn't bring herself to say "affair." It sounded so tawdry, so dirty, and what they had done was anything but. What they had done was beautiful, what they had done felt so right. If you couldn't see the beauty in the way he held her hand on the ice, or in the way he said her name late at night, then that was your problem. It was there, and it was real. Just read these notes, and you'll see.

Her fingers ran across the sheets of paper, varying in size and color, ranging from crisp and new to wrinkled and fading, depending on how many times she had read them. She had received more love notes from Will over the course of thirty-one days than she had from Stan in the years they had been together. She knew which one she should have stayed with. She made her choice. She decided to be a good wife.

She just didn't realize how wrong that decision was.

Closing the box, putting it back on the nightstand, and fixing her gaze on her lap, she thought about the way she had been so hopeful when Stan left for the West Coast. Hopeful that she'd have time to figure out what was wrong in their marriage. Hopeful that she'd work out a plan to make it better. Hopeful that once he returned, they could make it better.

She didn't do any of that. She simply fell in love with Will and got her heart broken by her own stubbornness.

"Karen?"

She looked up from her hands to see Stan in the doorway, a smile plastered on his face, some sort of peace offering for the distance they've endured since he got back from California. As if that was going to be all it took for her to look past the fact that they've barely said anything to each other in four days. "I've been looking everywhere for you," he said. "What are you doing in here?"

"I uh…" Quick. Say something. Anything that sounds reasonable. "I thought I left something in here. But I can't find it." What a horrible excuse. But it seemed to work. It never took much from her to please him. She learned that much early on.

"Look, I know we've been distant since I got back." Damn it. Is this where he says he knew she was sleeping around? (There it goes again, it sounds so dirty, so wrong, and that's not how it was at all) Is this where he says he can look past it if it didn't mean anything? She braced herself for the worst. "It's all my fault." Well. That was different. "I know I haven't put in much of an effort since I came home, and you deserve more than that." Where was this all coming from? She couldn't remember the last time he said she deserved more.

"You don't need to apologize, Stanley. It goes both ways." Some back-handed apology for something he didn't know she did. She thought it would make her feel better. It didn't.

"Let me take you out to dinner tonight," her husband offered. "Anywhere you want to go. It will give us time to talk. Time to catch up on what's happened in the past month."

Karen didn't know which was worse: the fact that Stan used the phrase "catch up" like she was an old college friend he hadn't seen in five years, or the prospect of trying to put into words exactly what happened in the past month while he was away.

Nevertheless, trying to be a good wife, she said, "I'd love that."

"Great. I'll go change. I'll meet you downstairs in the foyer in ten minutes."

When Stan left, Karen let out a big sigh before throwing herself down on the mattress. A month ago, she would have been thrilled at this surprising change of heart. A month ago, she would have put on a genuine smile when she said yes. A month ago, she would have put careful thought into what she wore and how she looked because she wanted the evening to be perfect; this was progress, and she was so open to progress a month ago.

But then Will pulled her into his life in ways she wasn't able to understand but embraced as if she knew them better than he did. And suddenly the surprise dinner invitation, the smile meant only for her, the night out on the town that she would have hoped for in the past didn't mean as much to her now.

In fact, they meant next to nothing. Too little. Too late.

But she'll go anyway, because she was trying to be a good wife.

She'll put on her coat and walk down the stairs, because she was trying to be a good wife.

She'll take Stanley's hand when he offers it to her, because she was trying to be a good wife.

She'll sit across from him at the dinner table and make meaningless conversation, because she was trying to be a good wife.

She'll fake a smile and say she really is having a good time, because she was trying to be a good wife.

She'll miss Will, who was making his way to the penthouse to deliver his apology to her, by two minutes because she was trying to be a good wife.


	8. The First Time

_December 4th_

"Will, I don't think this is such a good idea."

"What are you talking about? You said you wanted to."

"I know I did. I just think I got swept up in a wave of nostalgia. I didn't really think this through. Maybe we should just find a place on the upper level to watch. I mean, look, there's so many people out there already, we'd just be slowing them down, they'd have to go around us. We don't have to do this, I don't want you to feel like you owe this to me or anything. I really don't mind."

"Karen, look at me. Don't worry about a thing. We're just here to have fun. It doesn't matter what they think, it matters what you think. I'll be here the whole time. Hang on to me whenever you need to. You'll be fine. I promise. Take my hand."

She looked down as her gloved hand grasped onto his, and they made their first step onto the ice, amidst a swarm of strangers and some overplayed, over commercialized Christmas song blaring through the speakers around the rink. The ice was slicker than she thought it would be, and she found herself instantly wobbling on her feet, trying desperately to keep herself from falling. She moved her feet for a few moments before letting herself glide, and once she was fairly certain she was stable and the fear that initially plagued her had finally washed away, she looked up at Will and smiled.

Karen had found him waiting for her by the tree, a pair of ice skates in each hand. The sun had just set, and the lights of the tree illuminated the sky in a way anything natural never could. "Here," he had said as he handed her one of the pairs of skates. "These are yours." When she had asked him if he had rented them out already, he told her, "No. These are yours to keep. I went out and bought them for us, for tonight."

"Will, you shouldn't have," she told him.

"I figured it would be better this way. I have a feeling we'll be spending a lot of time here." She had wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug before he took her hand and led her down to the rink.

Now, she looked up at him and smiled. But at this moment, she felt her legs start to give and her gaze snapped back to the ice as she grabbed onto Will's arm with her free hand. He laughed as he tried to help her steady herself. "If you're not careful, you'll be taking me down with you."

Karen watched him for a moment. He hadn't slipped up once, completely steady the entire time they had been on the ice. It amazed her; she had assumed that they were both going to be novices, rusty after so much time passing without being here. "How are you so stable on your feet when you haven't skated in years?" she asked, wondering what tricks he had up his sleeve that he could fill her in on, so she didn't look so much like a fool, a forty-something fish out of water grasping onto Will for dear life.

"I don't know. Maybe it's like what they say about riding a bicycle; you never forget."

"I wouldn't know; I never learned to ride a bike." Will looked at her for a moment, as if he were unable to comprehend what she just said. Everyone learned how to ride a bike as a kid; it was a rite of passage that was universal. "My parents said I was too young, they were too afraid of me hurting myself. Of course, that was before my dad died. And then my mom was too busy moving us around from city to city, state to state, and doing whatever she had to do to get money to live on. So she either forgot, or she didn't care. Or both." It could have been a somber moment among the joyous ones skating circles around them. Maybe it should have been. But Will had that perfect way of making her smile when she had just finished baring her soul.

"So does this mean we have to put that on the list too? First skating, then a bike ride in Central Park?" he said with a smirk, hoping the joke wouldn't go too far.

Karen laughed—god, it was so easy to get lost in that sound, Will thought—as she felt herself becoming steadier on her feet. "No," she laughed out as they made a turn on the rink. "I don't think it's that pressing of a matter."

"You're not missing much anyway. The first time I tried to ride a bike, I was practicing in the driveway, and I crashed into the mailbox, scraped my knees and arms pretty badly. I wouldn't try again for at least a month, even when my parents tried to get me to ride."

"You poor thing," she said with a giggle as she kissed his cheek without breaking her stride.

It was funny how quickly their connection had developed. A week ago, they never would have been seen here together. They never would have exchanged little bits of their childhood to each other so easily. It was almost as if they truly were…no. She couldn't say it. She thought it, and she loved it. But she couldn't say it, not out loud. Not when she was committed to someone else. But what else could she call it? Just say it Karen. Say it. Almost as if they truly were…

A couple.

She never thought to associate that word with herself and Will before. But now that she has, it sounded nice. Sweet to her soul in a way that hasn't happened in a long time; it had come to her in many variations before, each one she thought was better than the last, but nothing ever like this. And it wasn't the end of the world that she thought so, too.

"Did you really mean what you said to me the other day?" she asked suddenly. If Will looked surprised by her out-of-the-blue question, Karen was even more puzzled by it, a brief lapse of control that she didn't see coming. "That you wanted to keep seeing me?"

Will locked eyes with her for a moment. "Of course I meant it. Why do you ask?"

"I just…I want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into." God, this was not how she wanted to spend her time with him on the ice. But she couldn't help herself.

"I know that Stan's coming back in January. I still want to make the most out of the time we have together, no matter how short it is."

"No, it's not that. You don't deserve to get tangled up in my mess. And as much as I try to get away from it, it's a part of me that I can't escape. You don't need to have my complications piled on top of your own. Nobody deserves that, and I care about you too much to make you do that."

Silence. This was it. She was anticipating the downfall. Ending it before it really had a chance to start.

"You're not making me do anything," he finally said to her, softly, barely audible against the loud Christmas music playing through the speakers. "Look, I know that this isn't going to be easy. But I'm not signing up for easy. I want you, and everything that comes along with you. I don't care about any of that. I just know that when you look at me, I get the feeling that everything is going to be okay. So give me your complications. Give me your problems. Give me your insecurities and what you think are your flaws. I'm more than willing to take your hand and help you untangle it all.

There was something she had learned about Will over the years; whenever he looks into your eyes and the tone of his voice grows soft, he means every word he says. He took that tone with her when she first came to him about her thoughts of divorce. He used it when he followed her up the stairs to the spare bedroom during Stan's party. He used it now. It was how she knew that all the warring words they had grown accustomed to in the past were just words, they had no real meaning behind them.

He meant what he said now. And she let the biggest uncontrollable smile play along her face.

"Hey, look at you," Will said suddenly. "You've been steady on your feet this entire time. Do you want to try going out on your own?"

"Let's give it a shot," Karen said as she slowly let go of Will's hand. Gaining a bit of momentum, she made her way along the ice, sliding past Will as gracefully as she could. She wanted to look back at him. She wanted to see if he was as surprised as she was. After a moment, Karen turned her head back towards Will and saw his brilliant smile for a fleeting second.

And then she fell to the ice, feeling the cold slap against her.

Will rushed over to her, slid to a stop in front of her, couldn't help but let out a little laugh, not out of mockery, never out of mockery. "Are you okay?" he asked as he extended his hand for her to hold, so he could help her up. She took his hand, but instead of dusting herself off and giving it another try, she pulled him down to her level and pressed her lips against his.

In that moment, it didn't matter that there was a sea of people circling them, skating around them. It didn't matter that Will could feel the bitter cold against his knees as he knelt down by Karen. In that moment, it was only them.

"I guess I really do need you," she whispered with a smile as they pulled away.

"Come on," he said. "Let's grab some coffee, warm ourselves up." He tried to get up, but her voice stopped him.

"Will?" she said softly as he knelt back down. "Will you spend the night at my place tonight?"

Will pulled her up from the ice and wrapped her in his arms.

"I can think of no better way to spend my night."


	9. Don't Leave

_December 5th_

_Rockefeller Center, two days before Christmas. It was something she looked forward to every year, something that was constant. She could count on it; no matter what happened up until that point, it didn't take away the fact that the trip from upstate down to New York City was a tradition that could not be broken._

_They had been in the city for two days now, soaking in the neon lights and the big crowds that were staples of the area. They would be leaving in the afternoon the next day, so they could make it back upstate in time for the holiday, and she was promised a go on that famous ice rink._

_And like every other year, she would not be disappointed._

_She was six years old, and the only thing she could think about as they walked out of their hotel room towards the Plaza was how his hand could wrap completely around hers with such ease. Her father always had the perfect grip when he took her hand: secure, but not too tightly that it became uncomfortable. It was just the two of them; her mother and her sister were still in the hotel, unwilling to spend any extended period of time out in the bitter cold of December. But she didn't mind; she wouldn't say it out loud, for fear of hurting her mother's and sister's feelings, but she liked it best when she was alone with her father._

_He tied up the laces on her skates before leading her out onto the ice. The slick surface made her legs feel like jelly, wobbling with uncertainty. But she knew she wouldn't fall; Daddy wouldn't let her. She held on as tight as she could to his hand, skating around the rink to the tune of a familiar Christmas song and her father's encouragement. "See, Karen? You're getting better and better at this," he said with a smile. She could have skated forever. She didn't care about the bitter cold. She didn't care that the wind was whipping at her face, stinging her cheeks red and making her nose run. She didn't care that the cold was seeping through her gloves, and even the embrace of her father's hand couldn't stop it. All that mattered was that she was in the moment, and time stopped to let her enjoy this time, this that only happened once a year._

_An hour went by in what seemed like a minute, signaled by her father telling her that it was time to go, and his attempt to lead her back to the entrance of the rink; Mom and Gin were waiting on them for dinner, so they had to hurry up and get back to the hotel._

"_Daddy, can't we stay just a little longer? Please? Just a few more minutes?" she pleaded, not wanting to be reunited with the rest of her family just yet._

"_I know you love being out there, Sweetheart, but we don't have the time to stay longer." He sat her down on the ground as he untied her laces, took the skates off of her feet and replaced them with the boots she came there with. "The rink will be there next year, and so will we. I promise." Karen smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he carried her off towards the hotel, dreams of next year's Christmas tradition already in her head._

_When they made it back to their hotel room, her skin warmed up by the fireplace as her father regaled the others of their adventure, of how big the tree really is, how well Karen had made her way across the ice this year. He told them that next year, they would have to go as a family, all four of them, so that they could experience it all right along with him and Karen._

_He said it every year. And every year, they refused to go. Every year, it was just Karen and her father. And every year, Karen was happy._

_Always happy. Never knowing what was truly behind the happiness._

_She didn't know that this year would be the last Christmas she would have with him._

_She didn't know that a month after her seventh birthday, that truck would slam into his car while he was on the way home from work, killing him instantly._

_

* * *

_

"Hey."

The soft whisper of his voice made her eyes flutter open. Karen awoke to Will wiping tears from her face. Had she been crying in her sleep? Thoughts of that last Christmas with her father had slipped into her subconscious, settling in as she was sleeping—maybe they were brought on by her skating the rink with Will—but she didn't realize that they were vivid enough to let this happen. Her eyes opened slowly as she looked at him with a smile. Behind him, the sun was just starting to rise outside her window.

Funny…when she pictured her first "morning after" with Will, she in no way envisioned it like this; waking up with tears in her eyes from something she had no control over.

"Hi," she whispered as she put on a smile.

"I think you were having a bad dream," he said softly as he brushed the hair from her face. "I woke up and there was a tear sliding down your cheek. What were you dreaming about?"

"I uh…I don't remember." She didn't want to get into that now. It was too heavy for so early in the morning. She grabbed his hand as it reached for her cheek and held it, kissed his palm. "It doesn't matter anyway," she said. "It was just a dream. Nothing real." Well. That wasn't completely true. But he didn't need to know that. She got out of bed, felt the red silk of her nightie sway with her movement, and made her way to the balcony entrance on the other side of the room, not without grabbing a pack of cigarettes and brushing her hand along the jewelry box containing the old locket from her father.

As they stumbled into her home last night, Karen made sure they moved towards the spare bedroom; it seemed right anyway. It was where it all started; it might as well be their space. When he made love to her, it was perfect: the way his fingers traveled up her spine, the way his kisses warmed her skin. To fall asleep in his arms afterwards was the sweetest reward of all. But to wake up and realize that she had shown complete and utter vulnerability while she was still sleeping…that was something she couldn't cope with right away. Not just yet.

Karen lit a cigarette and opened the door to the balcony, oblivious to the bitter cold of the early December morning. The burning tobacco felt warm at her fingertips and she watched as the tip glowed orange. The smoke felt brilliant in her lungs and she slowly felt her nerves begin to calm down.

She took a drag when she felt his arms wrap around her waist, his lips gracing her shoulder. They remained still for a moment, as if they were too afraid that whatever they had would be ruined if they moved. She knew he could feel a sense of melancholy and she knew he didn't know why he did. But if he was curious, he wasn't asking questions, and she was grateful.

But she had to break the silence somehow.

"Don't leave." It was so small, so unexpected—lately she didn't seem to have any control over what slipped out of her mouth—but it was there. "Don't leave me."

Will kissed the crown of her head as she leaned back into him. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, thinking she only meant right now, at this moment.

She shook her head before she continued. "Everyone leaves. Stan leaves. My previous husbands left. Family's left. It's inevitable."

He realized what she meant.

"It doesn't have to be. Not always." It wasn't much, but he felt powerless against her doubt, against her sadness. So many other people had let her down in the past. He wasn't about to be one of them. He was not going to be the one to hurt her this time around.

"It has to eventually, Will. Even for us. We've got an expiration date. That's just the way it goes."

"Listen to me." He turned her around as she dropped her cigarette to the ground, stomped it out. "Even after this ends, I'm not going to leave. I've been here this long. I'll still be here when he comes back, in whatever way you'll have me."

Karen buried her face in his chest, not wanting him to see her start to tear up again.

"I promise you I'm never going to leave, Karen."

She wanted to believe him. But she knew that once Stan comes back, things wouldn't be able to go back to normal, no matter how hard they tried. And she knew that despite his best intentions, he was probably going to end up lying.


	10. Love Is Never Equal

_December 8th_

"Karen? Come on, pick up. Karen? Why aren't you answering the phone? Where could you possibly be? Fine, don't answer. Listen, when you get this, can you call me back? There's something I want to talk to you about, and it can't wait too much longer. You have the number of my hotel room. Just call me when you get this. I'll try back a little later."

She heard his voice, reverberating through the hallway—the volume of the answering machine was always too loud and they always complained about it, but no one remembered to fix it until they missed a call, and by then it was too late—and pulled the covers over her head. Karen resented Stan's message almost as much as she was beginning to resent him. _Where could you possibly be?_ As if her world stopped when he got on the plane. As if she couldn't find her way without him. It was obvious that he thought of her in the way she never wanted to be perceived. It was obvious that even with this time away, he barely thought of her.

What was the point? She couldn't see it anymore.

She hadn't been able to see it for some time now.

Karen had always tried to look back on the years when her family was whole, and there was no threat of insecurity. There was a time when her mother was madly in love with her father. There was a time when their hands touched and their lips met and it was comfortable, with a warmth that was afforded only to those who have found their true love. She remembered the sense of it, the idea of it, but if you were to ask her for a specific example of her parents expressing their love to each other, she couldn't tell you. And it wasn't because the memory was too much for her to handle. That was far from it.

It was all because of her mother.

All it took was three months. Three. In three months, her mother realized that not only was she unemployed, and had been the entire time she was with Karen's father, in order to take care of the kids, but she had no real qualifications that were sought after in the work field. In three months, she had spent nearly all of the money her husband had saved up on frivolous things, gifts for Karen and her sister to make up for the fact that it was just the three of them now, trying to fill a hole that was bigger than all of them. In three months, she realized that she had to take action. In three months, she decided that the only logical way to make money was to scam all that came across her path, a decision in which, even to this day, Karen couldn't find logic.

In three months, her mother had seemed to forget completely about the late father of her children. It would have been one thing if she was one way to the public eye, but showed the fact that she missed her husband to her kids. But she never did. And if it taught Karen anything, it was that in any relationship, one person always loved more than the other. It was never equal.

The sentiment seemed pretty equal in her marriage, though. They were indifferent to each other in equal measure. What worried her was the fact that Will was still up in the air.

Later, she would realize that Stan never said "I love you" in that message, and this cycle would start all over again. But she wasn't concerned with that now. Once she got over her disgust she felt over Stan's voice on their answering machine, she was overwhelmed with the reality that Will's side of the bed was now cold from his absence.

He left this morning in an attempt to get home before Grace woke up. It was understandable—to even try to explain what they were doing seemed to be the hardest task, and she wasn't sure if either of them could accomplish it—but that didn't mean she had to like it. He kissed her before he left, promising to come back in the evening to take her out for the night. When he promised things, he made good on his word. When he kissed her, she felt a warmth she never felt with Stan before. And that scared her more than anything.

Because if she learned anything from her mother, it was that love is never equal.

And it made her nervous about what was to come.

* * *

"Where have you been?"

Will froze in the doorway at the sound of her voice. Damn it. It was too early for her to be up and around. He looked at Grace, seated at the dining table with a cup of coffee in hand, resting her spoon in the bowl of cereal she prepared for herself. He came in wearing the same clothes he had last night—stupid enough not to pack some clean ones for his overnight stay with Karen—and he knew he looked suspicious. But he tried as hard as he could to play it off, to change the subject.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"I've got to get ready for work soon. And, from the looks of it," she glanced quickly at the watch at her wrist before returning her gaze to Will, "so do you. Where were you all night?" She took in his appearance, the way he was fidgeting, itching to get away from her as quickly as possible. No. It couldn't be. He wasn't…but it would sure as hell explain a lot. He hadn't been home the past few nights, and it wasn't like him to leave without telling her. "Are you…Will, are you seeing someone?"

"Grace…why would you ask me that?"

"Look, you've been gone at least the last four nights, and you never tell me where you're going. I wake up in the middle of the night and you're not here, and I worry about you. But you're coming home in the same thing you wore yesterday, it's like the walk of shame. You're seeing someone." It wasn't a question anymore. She figured it out. She always did. He loved and hated that aspect of their relationship in equal measure.

"Yes," Will said. It wouldn't help to hide the fact. Grace was able to see right through him when she wanted to. "It hasn't been too long, but it gets more serious every day. I can't explain it. I just didn't want to say anything, I don't want to tell you who it is, because it's so new."

"But you're sleeping together."

Silence.

"Will, why didn't you tell me? This is supposedly a good thing, a happy thing. Why wouldn't you say anything about it to me?"

"Because it's all happening so fast!" He closed the front door, realizing he was shouting. Will walked over to the couch, took a seat, kept his gaze on his lap. "It's not like I went out looking for this. And it's not like I expected this to go so far so quickly. But it did. And I'm not going to stop it." He looked at Grace for a quick second, staring at him, expressionless. God, he wished he could tell what she was thinking. But he couldn't stop talking, he couldn't stop trying to explain himself. "I know this isn't how I normally go about this. But it isn't exactly a normal connection. I can't tell you what attracts me so much. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy."

Grace stayed silent for a moment. He couldn't tell if she just needed time to process it, or if she was pissed that she was completely left in the dark. He didn't mention who it was with; he wasn't ready for that yet. Will knew that if he told her he was seeing Karen, they would not only get into a deeper conversation he really didn't want to have, she would laugh in his face and tell him how ridiculous he was. Or she would turn it around and demand why he could choose Karen, but he couldn't make it work with her all those years ago. So he kept it anonymous, letting her create her own image of his secret lover, as she made her way over to the couch and sat down next to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm not here to judge you," she said. "If it feels right, then I'm so happy for you. You know that. I just want you to be careful."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that…well, you tend to give out more love than you receive. I don't want you to get your heartbroken. I've seen you in situations where the love isn't equal, and you deserve so much more than that. It's great that you feel comfortable enough to move quickly. But please be careful."

"I don't think it's going to happen this time. I mean, it's complicated, I'll give you that. I don't want to get into all the details right now. But that's not going to happen. I feel the same love I'm giving. It's different this time."

"I'm glad, Will. I really am." Grace gave him a smile before she stood up. "I've got to get ready for work. I'm sure my new client won't appreciate my meeting him in a bathrobe." She kissed his cheek. "And this mystery lover, whoever he is? I'm sure he's great. I know I'll love him when we meet." She walked into her bedroom and shut the door.

It took Will a moment before what Grace said finally sunk in.

Whoever _he_ is.

I'm sure _he's_ great. I know I'll love _him_ when we meet.

She thought he was dating a man.

And he let her believe it.


	11. In the Now

_December 12th_

"It's…no, it's not on right. A little more to the left, Jackie. The star's a little crooked."

Four trees in four different rooms of the penthouse; just because she wouldn't have her family here for the holidays didn't mean the place couldn't look a little festive, and she had always gone big for Christmas before, so it wouldn't hurt to keep up with tradition. Karen had invited the others over to help decorate. Together they made up a little tree that greeted you in the foyer before they decided to split up; Will and Grace took the one in the corner of the dining room while Jack and Karen went to the sitting area one floor up, to fix up the tree across from the fireplace, and they planned to come back together to decorate the one in the living room.

Stan called again yesterday; this time, he was more insistent, probably because she never called him back the first time. "Karen, why haven't you called me back? I told you it was important. It's been four days, why haven't you called? I need to talk to you, it can't wait any longer."

No, Stan. You can wait until Karen unwinds a little bit.

She wanted to so badly, the entire time they were there; she wanted to put her arms around him, to take in all the romantic implications of the holiday season. To give him kisses with a hint of white wine. She wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against hers as they watched the lights on the tree twinkle in all their glory. But she knew it would be suspicious if she only asked Will over. And the truth was, it was nice to have people she actually cared about in this place. It made the space come alive in a way it never did during one of Stan's parties. But it didn't take away from the fact that she just wanted to be with Will.

If only they could slip away to the spare bedroom, just for a few minutes, without Jack and Grace noticing that they were gone…

Karen sipped from a glass of Chardonnay as Jack straightened the star on top. "There, you've got it," she said once he had moved it. She took a moment to study the tree, the way the lights made the ornaments shine the kind of white that you can only find this time of year, the artificial white that seems almost more beautiful than if it were natural. "Perfect. It looks great. Come over here, get a look at it, honey."

Jack stepped away from the tree and next to Karen. "Look at it. It's gorgeous, Kare."

"We should go find Will and Grace, see if they're done with their tree yet. Maybe they could use some help finishing it up before we work on the one in the living room." Wine glass in hand, she started to make her way towards the door when Jack spoke.

"Sure. You know, Grace was telling me the strangest thing before we got here. She said that Will's seeing someone." Karen froze in the doorway. Grace knows? Who are you kidding, Karen, of course Grace knows. When have you ever known Will to keep a secret from her? "She told me that he's not saying who it is; she thinks it's some sort of affair on the other guy's part and he's too embarrassed to own up to being a part of it." Jack giggled for a moment. "Will in a clandestine affair. Can you imagine? I mean, he could barely handle the ones we actually knew about!"

Jack passed by Karen and left the room to head towards the dining room. She knew he wouldn't notice if she didn't follow him; she didn't have the heart to find the rest of them. She wanted to know how much Grace knew. She wanted to know what Will told her. Did he fill her in on their Rockefeller Center journeys? The notes he's written to her? The fact that it all has to end eventually? Grace probably thought he was insane. She didn't blame her; if she were on the outside, it would seem pretty crazy to her, too. But you didn't know until you were inside it.

You didn't know that it was the only thing that made sense in her world.

Karen walked back to the couch and set her glass on the coffee table. Wait. Jack thought Will was dating a man. He assumed it was just another boyfriend in the line. Maybe Grace thought his secret lover was a man, too. She had been a bit awkward around Will lately when they were in public, not knowing how to act with him anymore when there was an audience. But maybe no one noticed. Maybe no one cared enough to analyze those slight changes in behavior.

Maybe they were still safe.

Maybe…

She ran her hand through her hair as she heard the sound of paper rustling to the floor. She turned to the door to find a note lying on the carpet. She rushed to the door.

"Wait," she called out as quietly as she could. "Will, wait. Come here, Jack left already. He went to find you and Grace. They're not going to catch us."

She peeked out the door to see Will's back turned towards her. He was making his way towards the spare bedroom, she could feel it; there wasn't anything else down the hallway that would have caught his interest. He turned around to face her, his smile growing wider as he moved closer to her. Karen grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him into the room before pressing her lips against his. There was something about longing for it for what felt like an eternity, and then finally getting it that made it that much sweeter.

"You two really went all out on the tree," Will said as they pulled away, and he was able to get a look at Jack and Karen's handiwork. She could see the way his eyes lit up against the shine of the tree. "Wait until you see the one Grace and I just finished. I hope you'll like it." He bent to the floor to pick up the note he left, handed it to her. "It's not of much use now, but that doesn't mean you can't read it anyway."

Karen watched as he sat down on the couch, and she followed suit, folding herself in his arms as she opened up the note. This is how it should have been all evening. This is how it should be, always. She spent a moment taking it all in, closing her eyes to get the full experience, before reading Will's handwriting.

_You have no idea how much I've wanted to whisk you away from them. I miss your touch terribly. Jack and Grace can occupy themselves for a little while. I'll be in the spare bedroom if you want to spend some time alone, whenever you're ready._

"You really know how to get to the point, don't you?" she said with a giggle before resting her head against his chest. Karen could hear his heartbeat, soft, steady, calming. Such a beautiful melody that she could listen to forever. She let a little time pass before she spoke again, not wanting to give this moment up just yet. "Grace and Jack think you're dating a man," she said softly.

"How do you know?"

"Jack told me. We were about to come find you when he said that Grace told him you were seeing someone. They both think it's with another guy. I think Jack was looking for me to make some kind of snide comment about it, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't know what to do."

"Grace saw me walking in a few mornings ago. I knew that I wouldn't be able to hide much from her, but I did the best I could. She was telling me to be careful, that I always give too much."

"Maybe you should listen to her." Karen looked up at him, willing him to lock eyes with her. God, those brown eyes. They alone could melt her. "I can feel myself falling. And I can't do anything to stop it. I don't want to do anything to stop it. But I know that's going to be my downfall in the end. At least one of us should be careful, Will. That way it won't be completely disastrous when we have to say goodbye."

"Karen, if we keep living in this melancholic future, it will be our downfall before it's supposed to happen. We can't keep thinking of what is going to be. Because if we do, we're going to miss everything that comes before it. I don't want to miss anything with you. I want to get as much time in with you as I can. I want to say everything I want to before it's over. Karen, I think I…"

Karen brushed her lips against his in interruption. "Don't say it," she whispered. "There's no turning back if you say it. I know you want me to live in the present, and I'm going to try my hardest to do that. But I know for a fact that if you say those three words, we are not going to recover from it. But I know," she said with a smile.

Will took her in his arms. "I do," he said as he kissed the crown of her head.

"So," she said as she held the note between her fingers. "You still want to spend some time alone?"

He smiled and stood up, took her hand to lead her to the spare bedroom. He was right; she knew it. She had to live in the now. She couldn't try to tailor her life around what the future held. She couldn't try to make up for the things she had no control over in her past. She was going to savor the moment. And she was going to start now. Will pulled her to the bed as his hands traveled along her shoulders, as his hands slid underneath the fabric of her clothes.

She glanced over at the nightstand next to the bed for a quick moment, and her heart skipped a beat. And as hard as she tried to concentrate on Will, although she tried not to think about the past, the fact still remained.

The jewelry box, with the locket her father gave her nestled inside it, was missing.


	12. Neon Lights and Revelations

_December 16th_

Her grip wasn't as tight this time around, her hand wrapped around his limply as they made their way around the rink, gliding along the ice. It weakened as time went on. When they first hit the ice, Karen was laughing and smiling, unable to control her happiness, and Will couldn't help but share the sheer glee she was feeling. But a lull in conversation let her submerge herself into her bleaker thoughts, and if she tried to hide it, she wasn't doing a very good job. Will looked at her for a moment; any wonderment and joy that was there the first time he took her to Rockefeller Center was hidden behind some thought that was bigger than either of them, and it plagued her. Karen's gaze alternated between the ice at her feet and the space ahead of her, drowning in a daze that made her completely disconnected with her surroundings.

"Hey," he said softly, just enough to be heard over the music spilling from the speakers. He drew her arm around his waist for her to steady herself while he wrapped his own around her shoulders. "Where are you tonight?"

It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. Karen jerked back into reality and locked eyes with him. She could feel her cheeks growing red, and she couldn't tell if it was because of the wind whipping at their skin or her embarrassment of not giving her full attention to the beautiful and generous thing Will was doing for her. "What?" she said, getting a feel for her surroundings once again. "Oh, god, I'm sorry. I just…I got lost in my thoughts for a minute, I guess."

"What were you thinking about? What's got you so troubled, Karen?" His voice was full of concern, so thick and heavy that Karen could even feel it. And as much as it disheartened her to make him worry, she couldn't help but feel safe with him. Before her husband left for the West Coast, she could count on one hand the number of times she actually felt that Will was concerned for her; maybe it was the fact that they've slung so many insults around that they overshadow the sweeter words, or that she hadn't let him in until now. But with the time they've spent together had turned him into one of the only people she could fully trust.

She tried her best to calm his unease. "It's nothing, it's so stupid. It's…can I ask you something? That box I keep on the nightstand of the spare bedroom, the one with the locket my father gave me as a kid? Do you remember that?"

"Of course. You were telling me about it at that party a few weeks ago."

"Yeah. You didn't see it around the house, did you? It's not on the nightstand anymore. I noticed it a few days ago, and I've been racking my brain ever since trying to figure out where I might have put it. I just don't know what I would have done with it, it never leaves the room. I haven't been able to wear it since I was a teenager, there's no reason for me to take it out of the box. Did you see it anywhere?"

"I haven't, Karen, I'm sorry." He watched her head lower in sadness and he brought her in closer to him. "If you want, I can help you look for it when I take you home."

"No, that's…it's okay, really. I was just curious."

"We'll find it. I promise." Karen looked up at him as he said that, gave him a melancholic smile as she nodded her head. He knew how much it meant to her; he knew that she lost her father at a very early age, that she didn't have many mementos to remember him by. And he knew it would be lingering in the back of her mind until she found it again. "When have I ever broken my promise to you?" he said with a reassuring smile.

"Never. I know, I just need to take my mind off of it."

"How about you let me take you to dinner, and we can try to take your mind off of it together?"

There it was. A genuine smile, accompanied by a laugh that grew and warmed his heart like nothing else could. She took him by the hand and led him towards the entrance of the rink. "I think you've got yourself a date," she said. They slipped out of their skates and made their way towards the tree, passing through the crowds. Will stopped for a moment, by the shops on the other side of the tree. Karen turned to face him and tilted her head. "What made you stop?"

"It's funny," he started as she moved closer to him. "The light in your eyes makes the tree shine brighter than it ever could on its own." He took her in his arms and brushed her lips against his. In their time together, it was all about being hidden. It was all about finding time to sneak away, finding time to be alone, to share a secret that was only for the two of them. But right here, in the middle of such a famous place, with a swarm of people around them, he needed to feel her lips on his skin.

And he didn't care who saw.

* * *

"Jack, come on, let's move so we can get out of here! Look, we can barely get through the crowd to see this damn tree." As much as Grace tried to resist, Jack was too strong and pulled her through the sea of tourists and first-timers to Rockefeller Center. This was in no way how she wanted to spend her Saturday night, but when he couldn't find anyone to go with him, Grace felt bad enough to agree to accompany him. Now, she was starting to regret it; the Plaza became more crowded by the day once the tree was lit, and it was nearly impossible to move.

"Grace, we're almost there. I'm sorry, Karen would never go for this sort of thing, and when I asked Will if he was free tonight, he told me he had plans. Come on, I've never seen the tree up close before!"

"I can't believe you've lived in Manhattan this long, and tonight is the first time you've seen the Rockefeller Center tree. That's one of the first things you do when you move here."

She could remember her first year in Manhattan, freshman year of college. She had planned on going down from Columbia to Rockefeller Center with Will to spend a romantic night in Midtown, but after he revealed his secret during Thanksgiving and she wasn't speaking to him, she brought Ellen along with her. Grace's mind was on other things and she didn't fully take it in; it wouldn't be until a couple years later when she went with Will that she would be able to see it for what it was. And it was magical.

But once they made the tradition to go every year, and a few years later, they realized that it never changed. The magic faded.

"Oh my god, Grace, look at it! It's amazing."

Grace caught up to him, saw the look on his face as he stared up at the tree, mouth gaping in wonder. She couldn't help but smile. It was the look everyone got when they saw the Rockefeller Center tree for the first time up close, without the barrier of a small television screen. This year, it wasn't the tree itself that filled her with the happiness and joy everyone else was feeling at first sight of it. It was the sight of Jack standing there, completely speechless, marveling at something that didn't even faze her anymore. It made her see the tree in a new light.

Suddenly, she didn't mind the crowd so much.

She didn't want to rush him, she didn't want to touch him, for fear of shattering a magic that was impossibly brilliant and vivid around him. Grace looked around the Plaza at the others taking in the tree, making their way to the rink, and in a gap in the crowd, she saw a couple, a man and a woman, across the way near the shops. She watched as the man stopped and waited for the woman to notice. She turned around with a smile on her face, and although it was far away, Grace was able to see the woman's features. God, that was strange. She looked just like…

Karen?

As much as she talked harshly about her husband, Grace had always pegged Karen for one who would be faithful, if only for the time she walked in on a crying Karen after one of Stan's health scares. She always seemed like one who would stay by his side. And now here she was, smiling for another man, moving closer towards another man…oh god…brushing her lips against another man. Had she done this every time Stan was out of town on business? Was she doing this even with Stan in Manhattan?

Wait a minute, this guy was about to turn around. She wanted to know who he was, if he knew exactly what he was a part of. They looked towards the rink together. Grace was able to get a clear look at him and froze, mouth agape like Jack's upon the first sight of the tree.

When Will kept his new beau a secret, Grace had no idea that it would be a woman, let alone Karen.

This couldn't be happening. She felt weak in the knees, she felt walls closing in even though they were in an open space. They weren't even trying to hide it, spending their time in one of the most populated areas in the city this time of year. She had to tell someone. She had to make sure she wasn't just seeing things. "Jack, get over here!" she called out.

Jack snapped out of his gaze and walked over to Grace. "What's the matter?"

When he looked in her direction, a mass of tourists had filled the gap that revealed Karen and Will in the first place. "Wait until these people move out of the way," she said. "I swear I just saw Karen up here." She couldn't say that she was with Will. Not yet. That was too much of a shock to comprehend. For a fleeting moment, the crowd parted.

"Grace, I don't see anyone," Jack said as he turned back to the tree. Grace focused on the spot she saw them, completely speechless.

They were gone.


	13. If I Have to Go

_"And it's one more day up in the canyon,  
And it's one more night in Hollywood.  
If you think you might come to California,  
I think you should."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December" _

_December 19th_

_Rockefeller Center, a week before Christmas. She could tell he wasn't having a good time, that he was only going through this for her. It took away some of the magic in a way, the fact that he was just another jaded New Yorker going through the motions. She had always seen everyone on the Plaza with a smile on their face and a sparkle in their eyes that only showed its face this time of year. But as every other soul circling the tree brightened the space, he dimmed it that much more. She sighed, but he didn't hear it. If he didn't want to come, he shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. She never even expressed a desire to do this, but it didn't matter anyway; whether it was a need to impress her or some misunderstood connection they had, they were here, and he was renting two pairs of skates for them._

"_If you don't want to do this, honey, we can always turn back. Let's just grab some coffee somewhere. I won't be upset, I promise," she said. But he shook his head, told her it was fine, and paid for their time here._

_Karen put on a false smile for Stan, and he took it as genuine happiness. The truth was, she would have done anything to leave the rink. This wasn't how she wanted to remember this place. She thought back on the years her father brought her here, all that meant, how those trips made her believe that you could never be sad here. But the silence between her and Stan as they slid along the ice started to strip away at all of that._

_If it weren't the first year they were dating, if it weren't the first time this silence took a hold of them, it wouldn't have affected her as much. "I'm sorry, Stan," she said softly, making him turn his head. "I know you're doing this for me, but I didn't realize you were going to have such an awful time. We don't have to do this anymore."_

_Stan skated to a stop in front of her, took her hands in his. "Look at me," he said as she looked up from her feet. "You shouldn't be apologizing. I'm the one who should be sorry. I don't want you to have a bad time because of me. I'll make it up to you somehow." She looked into his eyes, and at that moment, she saw all the concern and care for her in the world. And in an instant, her false smile became completely real as she nodded and brushed her lips against his._

_They would grow further and further apart by the day, despite their future marriage._

_He would stop going out of his way to make her happy._

_They never skated Rockefeller Center again._

_

* * *

_

The piercing shrill of the telephone jerked her back into reality. Will had gone off to get ready for bed, his skin still cold from the rink, leaving her to her thoughts, unconsciously sinking into the memory of the one time Stan had taken her to Rockefeller Center. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out why her mind led her there—out of guilt, frustration?—but was thankful for the interruption of the phone ringing. Karen made her way from the spare bedroom to the phone in Stan's office—the closest phone—and answered. "Hello?"

"You never called me back."

Stan. No "hello." No "How are you?" No "I miss you." Not even a "How's New York?"

"I know, Stanley."

"I told you it was important. I'm surprised I could actually get you this time, I've lost count of how many times I've called you. Did you forget? Or was it intentional? I don't understand it, Karen."

"Look, you can spend your time interrogating me, or you can tell me why you were calling me in the first place. We're not getting anywhere right now, and I can't stay on the line for very long, so you're wasting both of our time."

"You're right. I'm sorry." She was grateful for the fact that he couldn't see her; the look on her face was one of complete and utter surprise. Karen couldn't remember the last time he apologized to her, for anything (Well. That wasn't necessarily true. He apologized in Rockefeller Center, and there was bound to be others scattered around their relationship, but they were certainly few and far between). "I just wanted to make sure there was enough time left."

"Stanley, what are you talking about? Just tell me."

* * *

When Will walked back into the spare bedroom, her back was turned towards the door and her head was low. He knew something was wrong. "What's going on?" he asked. She didn't look at him, simply slid an envelope along the mattress for him to see. He picked it up, looked inside.

"Round trip tickets to California?" Was this some sort of early Christmas gift? It seemed odd, traveling together to the place her husband was working. If they wanted a quick getaway, why not Karen's cabin in Vermont? Why not the Berkshires? Anywhere on the East Coast that Stan wasn't able to see? He looked again. "Wait, I don't get it. There's only one in here."

"Stan bought it," she said softly, with all the volume she could muster, "right when he found out that he would have to go to California on business, put them in his desk drawer and wanted to keep them a surprise until now." She couldn't look at him, not now, not when her heart was cracking and she knew that his would be too. "That's why he's been calling me so much. He wanted to make sure I found the ticket before Christmas Eve. He wants me to take a red eye flight to the West Coast so I can be there in time for Christmas, and then I would leave the day after."

"Why did he do that?"

"Because it's what he thinks I want." She winced as she said that. It seemed to be the theme of her entire relationship with Stan. Whenever he did do something for her, those rare times that he actually did something, it was only what he thought she wanted, never what her true desires were. "He didn't want me to be alone on Christmas, since the kids are spending the holiday with their mother. I kept telling him that I wouldn't be alone, that I would have you and Grace and Jack to spend the day with, but he was insistent."

Silence.

"I didn't give him an answer, you know. He just told me that if I want to go, to get on the plane. And if I'm not on the plane, then he knows where he stands."

"So are you going to go?"

Karen took a deep breath. "I don't think I have a choice." Suddenly, she felt his arms around her waist, she felt his chest pressed against her back, and she couldn't take it. The tears welling up in her eyes that hadn't been able to penetrate her speech spilled onto her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Will," she whispered as she wiped the tears away.

"Don't be, it's not your fault. You didn't know. It'll be fine. It's only for the holiday; you'll be back and we can spend the next week together before he comes back."

She looked at him for the first time since Stan called. "How can you do that? We have so little time together as it is. It gets cut even shorter, and you spin it to make it positive anyway. I wish I could do that. What if I go there to be with him and I find all the things I loved about him in the first place? What if I decide I want to stay there for the rest of his trip? What if this ends as soon as I get on that plane?"

Karen slid her body down across the mattress. She felt completely helpless. She knew exactly where she wanted to be, and in some respects, she had already gotten there. But eventually, there was someone, something, pulling her back. Always something pulling her back. This wasn't simple.

But nothing in her life ever was.

She felt the mattress give on his side of the bed as he lay down beside her, ran his fingers along the back of her arm. "If that happens, it should only be because you want it. And if that's what you want, I have to accept that. But that just means that I have to make the most out of the time we have together. We've got five days before you have to leave. I'll give you all I have until then."

When Karen looked into his eyes, she could see he was serious. They always knew that they didn't have much time. But their relationship worked in spite of that. She had spent the last few weeks under the delusion that nothing could stop them. But he knew better than that. He knew that he would have to prepare, and he still made the most of it without feeling sorry for himself. She knew she had to snap out of it. She knew she had to treasure the few moments they had left. Because if she was somehow right, and something happened on her venture to the West Coast, she would regret not making the most of the situation.

They had until Sunday.


	14. Moving Forward, Standing Still

_"I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on  
To these moments as they pass..."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December_

_January 4th_

Holding that plane ticket in his hand, that direct flight into her husband's arm, was what lit the spark, was what made him realize that he had to move. Too concerned with living in the present, he seemed to let the fact that it would all be over by the first of the month slip from his mind, and he tried to let it flow like a normal relationship, as if they were a normal couple. But in doing that, he completely neglected the first rule, the golden rule, of their connection.

Nothing involving them would ever be normal.

Will walked around the Plaza, circling the tree god knows how many times, replaying last month in his head. He had told Karen that if she changed her mind a week early that it would be okay. He made her believe that once she had to end it, he would be fine, he could move on, they could go back to the way they were. He didn't realize at that moment that he would make himself out to be the biggest liar on the planet. What killed him more was that Karen bought it. She bought into what he was unknowingly selling her. And when he walked out the door on New Year's Eve, he became one more man who had entered her life just as quickly as he left. He shouldn't be that. He didn't want to be that.

But he was. And it pierced his chest with more force than a flaming arrow being shot a full speed.

The lights on the Rockefeller Center tree shined in his eyes, thousands of tiny bulbs mocking him endlessly. How can they be so bright while he was shrouded in darkness? It was something he couldn't fully comprehend. He never really could wrap his head around it anyway; it stunned him how the walls could close in and his life could seemingly stand still, and all the while the world kept on turning, people kept on moving, deadlines grew closer and it never fazed anyone. Will remembered only one other time the lights on the tree shone as bright as this. Christmas Eve, just before Karen was supposed to leave for her flight. God, it seemed like an eternity had gone by since that night, it seemed like there was this long period of time for him to grow and learn from his experiences, for him to mature. But he felt just as broken, just as confused, just as guilty as he did when he left Karen's place that last night. Maybe it was the fact that such a drastic change in emotion took place between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve, a change that should have taken months, years, to manifest, that it left the impression of a long and arduous journey.

Whatever it was, he couldn't get over it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get over it.

And he wasn't sure he necessarily wanted to.

He remembered taking her hand, wedging their way through the crowd. They didn't talk about her upcoming flight; they knew better than that. She had stopped for a moment to take in the smell of honey roasted cashews and peanuts from the vendor at the corner of the sidewalk, her arms wrapped tight around his waist as they stood among the crowd. Will had bought some cashews, held them out for Karen as she slid her fingers into the bag to grab one. Something in the way she looked at him then, something in the way she smiled that soft little closed-mouth smile after she got a hold of one made him think that this was the most important moment in the world. Maybe back then—back then, like it was a year ago, like it was five years ago. Do you even realize how you're remembering this, Will?—it truly was.

They had made their way to the tree slowly, not willing to fight through the sea of people to make their destination any faster; they had been there before, they knew what it entailed. Let someone who had never been there before have their fun first. As they moved closer, Will had stuck his hand in his right coat pocket, putting his hand around the camera he left his apartment with. It was a stupid little notion, something he had decided to do on a whim, but his expectations and assumptions about Karen had been thrown out the window the night he found her alone at Stan's party, and he figured maybe she'd go for it.

Once she had caught sight of the tree, Karen let out the little gasp she always did whenever she first sets her eyes on it. Will absolutely loved it; no matter how many times he had taken her there, no matter how many times she had visited Rockefeller Center in her past, the size of the tree and the way it shone so brightly in the night took her aback.

"God," she let out. Will had been able to see her breath as she was speaking, the chill of the air making her words that much more tangible. "You know, you'd think the feeling would go away after a while. That feeling of being so small, so insignificant, when you're standing in front of this thing. But I come here time and time again, and I always feel so tiny. It's not something you should feel, you're supposed to marvel at it and feel your heart warm up. And I feel that too, I really do. But it's just the size of it, you know? I can't help it. I feel small."

"Well, if it helps," he said. "You've always been the biggest person to me."

She had turned to look at him and smiled. She couldn't express herself in words, but it didn't matter. All she wanted to say was given to him as she pressed her lips against his. He couldn't help but wonder, then, if that would be the last time she would ever do that. He tried to shake it off, and even though he thought he had, it would linger in the back of his mind all night, magnified by Karen's absence as he thought of her boarding that flight to California. He had looked into her eyes as they pulled away, and knew that now was as good a time as any.

"Would you do something for me?" he had asked her.

"Anything. What is it?"

"Would you…" god, why was it so hard for him to ask this question? It wasn't like the big questions of a normal relationship—Will you move in with me? Will you marry me?—it was a damn picture. But remember, Will. Nothing about this connection was normal.

That's why you loved it so much.

"Would you take a picture with me by the tree?" He had pulled his camera out of his pocket, held it in his hand as Karen's smile grew wider.

"You're serious?" she had asked. It wasn't a mocking tone, just one of surprise; he knew she wouldn't be expecting this to happen. "Don't you think that's going to lead to heartbreak?" she continued, making sure he knew everything that this would imply. "Some digital reminder of what used to be, what we can't have anymore?"

"No," he had said as he laughed. "I merely wanted proof that at one time, we were civil to each other."

There it was. That beautiful, melodic laugh. Karen had nodded as she grabbed the camera from Will's hand and found a stranger beside them, looking up in wonder at the tree. "Excuse me?" she said as the man turned to face them. "Would you be able to take a quick picture of the two of us?"

"Of course," the man had said as he took the camera from Karen. "First time in Manhattan?"

"Not exactly," Will had chimed in. "We live here. We've seen the tree tons of times. We just never really got around to taking that obligatory picture in front of it."

The man had laughed as he told Will and Karen to move in close to each other. Will remembered distinctly the way it felt when Karen wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. The warmth of her body pressing against his. Amidst all the uncertainty and abnormality about the way they came together, and stayed together, Will felt nothing but normalcy, but run-of-the-mill happiness. And he had to admit, he liked it.

"Ready?" The man had said before he counted to three and let the flash light up the sky for a fleeting moment. He handed the camera back to Will as they thanked him and let him go back to the tree.

"What do you think?" Will had asked her as he let her see the picture through the tiny screen on the camera.

"It's perfect." Two small words, but it completely summed up not only the picture, but the evening at Rockefeller Center.

She wouldn't let him drop her off at the airport. She had told him it would be too painful to say goodbye there, and he knew she was right. So he dropped her off at her home, kissed her goodbye, and took a cab back to Riverside Drive, awaiting her call, missing her voice already.

He was on top of the world when they were on the Plaza that night.

And now, instead of meeting him for one last go-around on the ice, she was probably out with her husband, reconciling, patching up the holes in their relationship as he was freezing in the cold of Midtown watching the faces of people passing by as he stood still, waiting and wishing for something he was probably stupid, in the first place, to put his faith in.

He felt so small, so insignificant, but for reasons other than Karen's.

He watched as more and more people exited the rink, ready to go home for the night. There were a few people just entering the Plaza, for one quick look at the tree, but none of them were for him. People coming, people going, but no face familiar, no laugh that intoxicating high pitched laugh, no smile that brilliant smile he was so addicted to. Time was running out, he knew that. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he had waited long enough to spare himself the act of playing the fool.

He was beginning to lose hope that she would ever come.


	15. Twas the Night Before Christmas

_December 24th-December 25th_

"Hey. I thought you weren't going to call until you've landed. You were supposed to take off an hour ago. I guess the snow made things come to a stop. Did they say how long you were going to be delayed?"

"No, they basically told us to just sit tight for a little while. I guess they need to clear the snow off the runway before we can board. I should have just stayed with you. You know, just curling up in bed with a bottle of wine, taking in whatever time we have. You can't tell me you'd rather be alone tonight."

"Karen, that sounds like such a perfect night, and you know I wouldn't have it any other way. But as much as I want to be with you over the holiday, you made a commitment to Stan to visit him for Christmas. You should see it through."

He could hear a little scoff from the other end of the line, and he wondered if she had tried to keep it to herself or not. "Well…_he_ doesn't know I made a commitment."

In the few minutes before it officially became midnight, before it officially became just another lonely holiday, Will's cell phone lit up, vibrating along the end table as he had the television on low—Grace was fast asleep in her room—and suddenly he didn't feel so isolated. He could swear that her goodbye kiss still lingered on his lips, making it harder and harder for him to pretend that he was okay. He had spent the evening after Rockefeller Center alternately gazing blankly at whatever overplayed Christmas movie he stopped on (he wasn't really paying attention as he robotically pressed the button on the remote control), and bringing up the picture they had taken hours before in front of the tree on the Plaza.

He couldn't stop looking at her smile. It was unlike any other smile she had ever given him before. It was almost as if that feeling of normalcy he had the moment the flash went off had spilled onto her. It looked as though they were stripped of any nonconformity, stripped of any peculiar circumstances and potential consequences, and they were a couple in the most conventional form. Show this picture to any stranger on the street, and they would automatically say, "Yes. There. That is a happy relationship. That is what love is supposed to be."

Too bad it would end in a week.

No. Come on, Will. Don't think about that now.

"Oh, I meant to say something earlier, when you dropped me off," she said, jerking him back into reality, back into the conversation. "You still have a copy of my house key, right? You can bring Jack and Grace over and still celebrate Christmas there, if you want. Just because my plans changed for the holiday, it doesn't mean everyone else's plans have to as well. Just tell them I gave you the key in case you still wanted to celebrate there, you don't have to go into semantics. Use whatever you want, I just want the three of you to have a good time."

"It won't be the same without you."

"Will…"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. It slipped. I don't want to make this harder than it already is. You've got to understand, though, how much I wanted to spend the day with you."

"I know, honey. I feel it too."

He pictured her in JFK, sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair with her cell phone to her ear, waiting among a sea of tired and listless people just wanting to get away, just wanting to get back home, while she knew her fate wouldn't be as pleasant. But even though there was a look of sadness on her face, he pictured her with a beam of light shining down on her, while everyone else rustled in the darkness of the background. In an attempt to steer the conversation from the overly sentimental, Karen resorted to describing in great detail the different people that have been passing her by in the airport, guessing their situations, where they were headed, if they were running away from anything, running towards something. The way she went on about them made him feel like he was sitting right beside her, arm around her shoulders as she whispers the supposed stories of these strangers into his ear. He closed his eyes and let his mind take him to JFK.

But in that instant, he heard a door open and close; he heard footsteps in the hallway.

Will lay down on the couch, the phone hidden between the arm of the chair and his ear, eyes closed, curled up as if he were asleep. He could hear Grace's bare feet shuffling on the hardwood floors towards the kitchen, the refrigerator door opening, her hands fishing around glass bottles and Tupperware containers for a midnight snack. Chances are, she won't notice him, but he wasn't going to take any chances, and stayed perfectly still. If Grace found that he was on the phone, she would start asking questions that he didn't have answers for, and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

She had been acting a little odd around Will lately, almost as if she figured out his secret, but whenever he asked what was wrong, she would change the subject. Either she knew, she saw something (but how could she see something? He had been so careful not to be caught in the act), or something else was bothering her, something she didn't want to talk about yet. Either way, the paranoia was a heavy weight on his chest.

While Karen was still talking in one ear about a middle-aged woman who was probably going home to reunite with her kids after a disastrously long business trip, he heard Grace close the refrigerator door in the other, her footsteps moving back towards her bedroom until she stopped for a moment. He could feel her at the couch, her eyes staring at him. He heard Grace let out a little laugh—stifled, so as not to wake him—and she started making her way back to her room. He only moved again when he heard the bedroom door close behind her.

"Do you think Grace and Jack figured it out yet?" he asked when Karen had stopped talking.

"I love Jack, you know that, but he can be completely oblivious sometimes, so I don't think he's caught on. You know Grace better than I do, so I can't answer that. Why do you ask? What brought that on?"

"I just don't want it to get back to Stan; I don't want to make things harder for you."

He could hear her smile in her voice. "You're sweet to look out for me. But even if Grace and Jack found out, they wouldn't tell Stan."

"You're sure about that?"

"I don't think they would. I think they would realize how happy we are, once the initial shock of it all wears off, and try to protect that. They wouldn't expose us. They're better friends than that."

You could call Karen Walker cynical. You could call her distrustful. She certainly had her reasons for being so; even if you didn't know all the facts about her past, she just had this air about her when she let out the side of her she wanted the public to see, an air of being jaded not just by financial status, but by life itself. But when it came to the ones she cared about the most, when it came to the ones she let in, even if it was only a foot in the door, she had a fierce faith in them, and knew that they would do right by her, just as she did right by them.

"Oh, here we go," she said suddenly, a kick in her voice at this random turn of events; after a lull of passersby, she seemed to have set her sights on another stranger, either about to make her departure or make her way back into Manhattan. "I've got one more person for you. It's so easy too, I can see right through this woman."

Will smiled at her excitement. "Tell me about her."

"She's around forty, but she tries to hide it in every way she can, not because she's necessarily ashamed of her age, but because she knows her husband—or boyfriend, whatever—likes the youthful side of women better. It's a sick fact, but she's been with him so long that it's all she knows how to do. She's got money—whether or not it's her money doesn't matter. You can tell by her clothes that she's not afraid to spend it, or show that she's got it. But it definitely hides something darker, hides the fact that certain aspects of her life leave her unsatisfied. But there's more to it than that. She's found something that makes life a little more complete. It's hard to tell what it is, but she definitely has this presence about her that says that she's starting to come out of the darkness. But whatever it is, it's here in New York. And she doesn't want to leave it behind She's at the airport because she has to be. Some commitment she already made. No…wait a minute..."

"What's going on?"

"She was going towards the gate but she stopped, turned around. I think she's going back to whatever it is that's keeping her here. She said something under her breath, but I couldn't make it out."

Just then, Will heard a faint knock on the door. With a sigh, he got up from the couch and made his way over to the door while Karen was still speaking. "I imagine she was saying something like…"

When he opened the door, the muffled effect of the phone line disappeared into the clarity of her melodic voice. "I couldn't do it. I couldn't leave you," she said with a smile.

Will scooped her up into his arms, spun her around as his lips brushed up against hers. She laughed into his shoulder when they pulled away. "I got to the airport, and I couldn't understand why I wasn't home in your arms. This is what I want." She brushed her fingers through his hair and looked into his eyes. "Merry Christmas, Will."

He held her tight, didn't want to let her go. "Merry Christmas, Karen."


	16. Oblivion Fading

_December 25th_

She knew that if she hadn't have locked herself in the bathroom when she did, she would have confronted them right then. And it wouldn't be fair of her to do that, especially this day, of all days.

Grace had watched them the entire day; Karen had invited all of them over to her place for a Christmas celebration of their own, whether out of boredom or out of genuine friendship. Will and Karen on either side of the couch downstairs in the living room, pretending like nothing was there, pretending like their secret wasn't sitting between them, making a snug fit. She could see it in their eyes that they would rather be anywhere but there, somewhere they could be alone and shut the world out. Jack may not have seen them at Rockefeller Center, but how could he not see how uncomfortable, how awkward, they were, trying to reestablish what constituted as acceptable interaction in public? But she didn't want to call them out for the way they were behaving now. She wanted to say something about what she heard, what she saw, hours before.

They had no idea that she heard the front door open in the middle of the night, heard Karen's voice, the footsteps leading to Will's room, saw their kiss before he closed the door behind them.

It was faint, but Grace certainly heard someone knocking on the door last night, and although she tried to keep quiet, Karen's voice carried throughout the apartment. She had kept her door open just a crack that night, and she got out of bed, careful not to step on that damn floorboard that always creaked when any weight was put on it, situated herself so that she couldn't be seen. From the small opening, she could see as they stopped in the doorway to his bedroom, as he brushed the hair away from Karen's face, leaned in to kiss her. She could hear him asking her what made her change her mind, could hear Karen's reply of, "Because when it comes down to it, it's you. Always will be. And I want to spend all the time I can with you before he gets back." She watched him lead her into the bedroom. She watched him close the door.

In the morning, Karen was gone, once again trying to deceive Grace into thinking that everything she had witnessed was merely a dream, some figment of her imagination that she shouldn't put trust in. But she heard it. She saw it. She could see it now. And she knew it was real. That was all the proof she needed.

Grace couldn't take it any longer—two seconds away from blurting out something along the lines of "What the hell do you think you're doing?" without thinking of how it would sound, or how she might overreact—and excused herself to the bathroom. She rushed up the stairs to the second floor, covered her mouth with her hands as if that was going to keep the accusations from spilling out. It wasn't as though she was upset about it all, on the contrary; she had softened up a little bit once she discovered that Karen wasn't sleeping around with some random man, and if they found happiness in each other, who was she to stop them? What upset her was the fact that they thought she couldn't be trusted. They thought they had to sneak around, and on some level, they did. But if they needed a little help, she wasn't against protecting them.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, a soft giggle. Karen was on her way up to the second floor, and Grace knew she wasn't alone.

"Just for a moment, and we'll go back to Jack and Grace. I have one last present for you." Will's voice, fading as they made their way down the hallway. Maybe this was the moment; Jack was nowhere in sight, so she could just slip out of the bathroom, get their attention, tell them that they don't have to hide anymore. Slowly, quietly, Grace turned the lock on the door and opened it up just enough for her to slide through the crack. Their backs were turned towards her, but she could clearly see that they were hand in hand. She tried to get the volume to speak, to get their attention, but she stopped.

She couldn't do it. She was so awestruck by what she saw—it was incredibly simple, yet you never would have believed it could happen if you didn't see it—that she didn't want to break the moment. She didn't want to ruin it. So once she heard the door close behind the two of them, Grace quickly made her way downstairs and found Jack on the couch, looking through one of the bags filled with expensive paraphernalia Karen had given to him as a gift. He had no clue that they were gone.

It was as if nothing happened.

* * *

"Will, we should wait until they leave. They're bound to realize that we're gone."

"Relax. Grace is in the bathroom and Jack's occupying himself with that bag from Gucci you put in front of him. We'll be fine for a few minutes." He watched her as she sat near the head of the bed, a smile growing on her face as she looked into his eyes. "There wasn't going to be any way I could explain this one without letting everything spill," he said as he pulled a small box from his pocket and handed it to her. "I had to give this to you in private."

"I thought I already got my Christmas present," she said as she started to tear back the gold wrapping.

"Almost."

When Karen freed the package from the wrapping paper, she froze. She recognized the box, knew it so well, the faux velvet that was worn down in some places. She looked up at him, too stunned to speak for a moment. Even when she could muster the strength, she couldn't find the words, fumbling every time she tried to form a sentence. "I don't…Will, how did you…"

"That's not the surprise. Open it up."

Karen turned her gaze back to the box, popped the top open. The locket her father gave her was resting in the plush inside, on a new chain that could fit around her neck. Will had the silver of the heart-shaped pendant cleaned so that it would shine as brightly as the chain. She took the necklace out of the box, let it slide in between her fingers for a moment. She thought she lost it forever; she had been looking for it ever since she noticed it was gone, losing hope and effort as the days went on. To finally be able to hold it in her hands again was something completely indescribable.

"I told you we'd find it," Will said with a smirk as he lifted the necklace from her grasp and draping it around her neck and hooking the clasp. He could feel her tugging at it; he didn't know much about her father, or her childhood in general for that matter, but it didn't take a genius to realize how important this memento of her past was to her. "I sneaked off when Grace and I were decorating that tree to get it from the nightstand. I wanted you to be able to wear it if you wanted to. God, it was so hard not to just give up the surprise when you asked me if I've seen it. You looked so upset about it, I just wanted to see you smile again."

"I can't believe you did this for me. No one has ever done anything like this for me before." Karen felt the chill of the silver heart on her chest. Stan would never have done this, in any stage of their relationship; he was never one for the overly-sentimental, and even though Karen wasn't either, she wanted more than anything just to hold on to the locket. Stan humored her, let her keep it stored away. She couldn't even begin to imagine how he'd react if he saw her wearing it.

But she didn't really care anymore.

Suddenly, Karen felt bad that the only things she had given Will for Christmas were of sheer monetary value, nothing of true sentiment. She looked around the room, and her eyes fell on the nightstand by her side of the bed; the notebook and pen were still resting in its place. She flipped it to a clean page, wrote something down and tore the paper out of the book. "This is all I can think of to give you in return," she said as she handed it to Will. "I can't say it out loud. But I do." She watched as Will looked down at the note, smiled at the words.

_I love you._

"It's a little late, but I mean it," she said meekly.

Will knelt down to her level, brushed his lips against hers as she wrapped her arms around his neck. This is how it always should be. This is what you strive for, what you want out of life. He didn't want to think about the fact that, in a week, it would be gone. He tried to tell himself that at least he had it at one point, when most people never find it at all, but it never consoled him. He was learning to just take everything in, her touch, her kiss, her laugh, her skin. "I do too," he said as he closed his eyes to take in her warmth.

When they walked downstairs, Will entered the living room first, so as not to raise any suspicion. He took a seat next to Grace and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Karen came in a couple minutes later, finding a space on the couch next to Jack, who was still absorbed in the gifts she gave him.

Grace saw the presence of a heart-shaped necklace around Karen's neck that wasn't there the last time she saw her.

She figured out what happened.

She didn't say a word.


	17. Of Expiration Dates and Letting Go

_December 29th_

_Rockefeller Center, four days after Christmas. It didn't seem right this time around; maybe it was because of the fact that they had gone to Midtown in the afternoon, rather than in the evening when the tree shined the brightest, as they had every other time. He had wanted to take her for one last go-around on the ice before their inevitable ending. In all honesty, it was a last-ditch attempt to rekindle whatever flame had been dying out since Christmas. Once those three words were spoken—no, not spoken, but written; they knew they couldn't say it out loud and come out of the other side alive. The written word was their form of speech—a wall was being built between them. Some drab, grey piece of mundane distance that he could neither walk around nor break through, and it made him reach for anything that could bring back some semblance of what they had. They both knew that they only had a few days left, and as much as they tried not to let it bring them down, it always did._

_He credited the situation to the "I love you" at Christmas, although he had always credited the downfall of all of his relationships to those three little words. Everything came tumbling down shortly after it was said. Once that was presented, in speech, writing, whatever form that went with the relationship, it would trigger a reaction that it was never supposed to trigger, but did every time without fail. And although he wanted to believe that this time around would be different, she was proving otherwise. Dwindling conversation mixed with long silences he could hardly bear mad it all too clear for him that in two days, she would be ripped away from him, and they were supposed to pretend like nothing ever happened._

_With the prospect of her husband coming back, she seemed to start the process early. It wasn't like the normal philosophy with a bandage—rip it off in one go and get it over with—no, this was the doing of someone who could only take the pain in one-second intervals, clawing at it one bit at a time and tears welling at the pain, but it had to be done, and eventually it would be. So she would say a little less, take a hold of him with a weaker grip. And all the while, he acted like it didn't bother him, like he didn't notice the shift. But the thought wouldn't leave his mind._

_It was almost as if she was starting to let go already._

_Which is why he brought her to the rink one final time. "I just wanted to be here with you one more time before he comes back," he had said. Maybe a little too sentimental, but she smiled as they put their skates on and moved hand in hand onto the ice. It might have been just his mind working overtime, an increasing paranoia due to the month's end, but he could swear her grip was the loosest of all the times they had been to Rockefeller Center._

_It didn't necessarily put him at ease._

_Still, he put on a brave face and smiled his way through the whipping winds and children flying past them, daring their parents to catch up. She was wearing the locket her father had given her around her neck, had been since he gave it to her on Christmas, and Will watched it shine against the sunlight as they started to glide along the ice. It took him a moment before it registered that Karen had spoken to him._

"_I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked._

"_I said I think I've gotten a lot better since the first time you brought me here," she said with a genuine smile, looking so much better than his, he knew it. "I'm not as flailing on my feet as I used to be." There was a quick giggle, so fleeting, but he took it in, knowing that it would be one of the last._

"_What can I say? You're a pro now." His attempt at lightening the situation up a little. He couldn't tell if it worked._

"_I want to see if I can do this…"_

_With that, Karen let go of his hand and picked up some speed, skating past the ones who had skated circles around them, with an ease that surprised even him. It made him slow his own speed so that he could fully grasp the fact that she had become completely effortless on the ice. She had made a complete lap around the rink and caught up with Will before she spoke again._

"_I can't believe I can do this on my own now," she said with an excitement she never had any other time they had visited Rockefeller Center. If it were any other couple, under any other circumstances, he would share the excitement that so easily exuded from her. But they only had two days. And with every other thought in his head focused on their imminent demise, her willingness to skate on her own led his mind to wander to a place he always hated, but knew like the back of his hand._

_She had let go, in a completely physical sense._

_And if that was easy enough, the emotional sense should be no problem at all._

_

* * *

_

"Can I ask you something?"

Grace turned her head at the sound of his voice to face him on the couch; for the past half hour, they had been staring blankly at the television screen, the glow of a program they neither heard of before nor had very much of an interest in shining brightly into their eyes. She thought it was odd when he didn't leave right away for the evening, to presumably spend his night with Karen; he had done so every night this month, and she figured he'd want to get in as much time with her as possible before Stan comes back from California and they would have to cut down on how often they see each other. Instead, he was choosing to spend his night wasting time doing absolutely nothing with Grace? Something didn't add up. But before she could respond to him, he started to speak again.

"Do you think it's worth saving a relationship with a pre-set expiration date?"

Pre-set expiration date? Were they going to end things as soon as Stan got home? She couldn't see why he would do that, when she saw how happy they were at Rockefeller Center, in their own apartment, at Karen's on Christmas. "Are you talking about your relationship with this…mystery person?" She remembered him talking about a new fling, but he never mentioned who it was with. And although now would be as good a time as any to let him know that she knew, Grace realized that it wouldn't help anything.

"Why else would I bring it up?" he said quietly. It wasn't defensive, but more contemplative, confused, lost. "I should have known that it would be a lost cause, going into it. We knew it would have to end sometime, but there was some sort of tragic, romantic effect to it, knowing that it was going to be over in the blink of an eye. You know I'm usually not like that, but this time…I don't know, there was just something pulling me towards it, and I couldn't resist. But we went out this afternoon, and something was off. I don't know what it was—for all I know, it could have been my thoughts of the end clouding everything—but it didn't feel like it usually does. And I don't know whether to try and fix it, or to just let it go."

"Do you love this person?" So close to slipping and asking if he loved _her_, Grace was careful not to use pronouns. This situation was delicate enough as it was.

"More than I ever thought I could. It doesn't make any sense, it only started at the beginning of the month."

"You can't explain this kind of thing, Will. Once you find it, you just ride it. It's weird, it takes turns that you don't expect, but that's why it's so great. Screw expiration dates. Screw ridiculous conditions and thoughts of what could have been. If this is what you want, nothing else matters."

She surprised not only Will, but herself with her assertiveness about it all. The truth is, she couldn't remember a lover he had been so passionate about since his breakup with Michael. Sure, there have been others, and he's more than certainly moved on from seven years with a man who decided he wanted someone else, but once he finds someone, he leaves them within a couple of months. And he's not nearly as heartbroken as someone who invested everything into the relationship. It surprised and confused her that he chose Karen, that he chose a woman at all. But she knew that he truly loved her. And all the confusion in the world wouldn't keep her from wanting him to be with the person that made him happy.

"Don't let it go, Will. I've seen you with others and you're completely indifferent. But now, I've never even met this person," a bit of a lie, but she made it believable, "and I can tell that they're everything you've been looking for. Don't give it up just because it's expected of you."

At that moment, a light went off in Will's mind, and the dark thoughts scattered off. Grace was right. They had two days left; it was a sentence that had been on repeat, like a broken record, in his mind. He should be in bed with her, his arms wrapped around her, instead of moping around his own apartment wondering how things are going to be once Stan comes back and they go back to the fairly distant friends they once were. He didn't say a word, simply kissed Grace on the cheek and put on his coat, rushing out the door to Karen's penthouse.

They thought they had an expiration date. But he was going to do everything in his power to change that. Even if they spent the next two days in silence, merely with the warmth of their bodies, he was going to do something to change it.

When Karen opened the door, he scooped her up in his arms and pressed his lips against hers. She let out a little laugh as they pulled away, and she asked breathlessly, "What's gotten into you? It's only been a couple hours since I last saw you."

"I just missed you terribly." He knew he was making the right decision as she led him up the stairs to the spare bedroom. She was all he needed. He would fix it all. He had time to come up with something.

But time was running out.


	18. You Shouldn't Be Alone

_December 31st_

If it weren't for the phone call—no, that's not it. If it weren't for the fact that she picked up the phone in order to end the incessant ringing once and for all, everything would have been fine. That shrill and constant noise piercing her ears just a half hour before it turned midnight on the East Coast, she should have known who was on the other end; Will was in the other room changing clothes, Grace wouldn't have bothered with well wishes when she would surely see her soon, and Jack…well, he was probably in the arms of whichever "love of his life" he was on this week. There was only one other person it could be.

But she picked up the phone anyway.

"Hello?" she asked in a slightly annoyed tone. It was the last day she would have with Will; Karen didn't want any outside interruptions whatsoever. Not now. Not tonight.

"So am I supposed to take you not showing up for Christmas as a sign of what's to come?"

Karen winced. Stan's proposal of a West Coast Christmas, and her decision to blow it off completely, seemed like an eternity ago. Maybe it was because everything about this month had gone by at such a breakneck speed that there seemed to be a year's distance between yesterday and where she was right now. When she made that decision, she didn't even think about how it would affect her husband; she never cared. But she heard his voice now, and it was deflated, broken. It was strange for him to show emotion like that. She didn't like it.

"Stanley, I'm so sorry I didn't call you with my decision. I feel horrible about it. I didn't think. It's just that I had already made plans with friends for Christmas, and I didn't want to back out of them. It slipped my mind to call you back. It had nothing to do with us, or how I feel about you, any of that." Well. That may have been a lie. But he didn't have to know that; she was quite good at masking the truth with the inflection of her voice.

"Well…I know you've still got a half hour over there until it's official, but…I just wanted to wish you a happy New Year." Simple, but sincere. She knew it was. And it broke her heart a little to hear him say that.

"Happy New Year. I love you." She hung up the phone with a sigh and looked towards the door. Will was standing in the doorway.

He had heard it all.

She tried to give him a smile. "You know I didn't mean that," she said softly, referring to the quick "I love you" she gave to Stan just before she ended their conversation. "It was merely a knee-jerk reaction." She thought it would make him feel better, how those three words were simply an automatic response, no meaning behind it at all. She thought he would come to bed as she turned on the television to the broadcast of the festivities in Times Square—something they had seriously considered (they had already hit Rockefeller Center, why not go for the other big tourist spot?) before realizing they'd much rather spend the night alone, without anyone looking in—and they would pour champagne and ring in the New Year.

But instead, he simply stood there in the doorway, unwilling to move closer, unchanging in his expressions. He was too still to be the Will she had grown to love deeply. And she knew that tonight wasn't going to end in her favor.

"Is it always merely a knee-jerk reaction?" he said in a quietly stern tone that she had never heard from him before. "The go-to phrase when you can't think of anything else to say that would satisfy someone? Christmas…" Was he getting choked up? "When I gave you the locket at Christmas…did you only write that because you felt like you needed to give me something in return? You needed to fill space so it just popped into your head?"

"No, you don't understand…" Her wavering and weak voice didn't give much reassurance, or volume, to her response, and she couldn't figure out whether he didn't let her finish because he didn't believe her or because he simply hadn't heard her.

"Why did I let myself believe that it could be different? I saw you at the party, I saw you that first time in Rockefeller Center, and you seemed so…vulnerable and broken and nothing like I knew Karen Walker to be. It's what pulled me into this in the first place. God…every time someone pulls out those words, the relationship crumbles. It's only a matter of time. This time isn't any different, I guess. Have you been stringing me along like you've been stringing Stan along, just making me believe that you cared so it gave you something to do? Have you been that cruel the entire time?"

She was taken aback. Karen had never liked it when she argued with Will, even before that fated party Stan threw in November. But to have that air fill the room now, after everything that happened this month, killed her more than anything else could.

"Is that really what you think of me?" she asked after a lull in speech, uncertain if she wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know what to think anymore. I can't do this." And with that, he made his way down the hall, picking his things up along the way, and rushed down the stairs.

Karen ran after him, hoping to catch him before the door slammed with a finality she wasn't prepared for. But when she got down to the first floor and stumbled into the foyer, the door had just shut, dividing them for good a few hours before they had to. She was a fool to believe that when the time came to go their separate ways once again, it would be smooth. If it were any other relationship, she would be able to cry. If it were any other relationship, she would have time to mourn what could have been. If it were any other relationship, she would be able to talk it out with someone, get someone else to commiserate with. But this connection was anything but usual, defying every sort of norm it came across. Everything started quickly, everything had to end quickly. And there was no time to dwell on it.

Which was why, a mere three minutes after Will had shut the door on her, the doorbell rang, with Jack on the other side. Had he seen Will rushing away from the building just as he was rushing towards it? If he did, he didn't seem to think anything of it. Jack held out a bottle of champagne as he walked in. "I didn't miss the countdown, did I?" he asked as he headed toward the kitchen to open it.

"Not yet. Jackie, what are you doing here?" she asked as she followed him.

"I didn't want you to be alone for New Year's."

Although she would have much rather been alone to think about what had just happened, she didn't have the heart to turn Jack away. So she put on a brave face and turned on the television downstairs to celebrate with Jack. Masking every true emotion to make sure everyone else is comfortable.

Just like it used to be.

* * *

If the door hadn't have opened when it did, Grace would have completely missed the Times Square countdown to midnight. She had fallen asleep on the couch when Will burst through the door and woke her up. She opened her eyes to find him in front of her with a look on his face that she never saw before. She looked at the clock; there were still ten minutes left until midnight. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a sleep-heavy voice as Will started to make his way to his bedroom. "Where's Karen?"

It just slipped. Grace was still half asleep and it slipped. She immediately covered her mouth with her hands, trying to prevent it from coming out after the damage had been done. She watched as Will walked back to her. "What?" he asked. "How did you know…"

"I saw you! I saw you at Rockefeller Center one time, when Jack dragged me down there to see the tree. I saw you on Christmas Eve when you two were going into your room. And I saw you when I came out of the bathroom at Christmas and you two were going off to another room. I don't know why you didn't tell me, it wasn't like I was going to freak out. I'm happy for you."

"Grace, just let it go."

"No, I'm not going to let it go. Don't you understand? You don't have to hide it from us anymore. I can help you with Jack if you haven't told him. It'll be okay. He just wants you both to be happy, he'll be just as supportive. It'll be great."

"Grace, you're wasting your breath! It's over. We're done."

"What? What do you mean it's over? What happened?"

But he was already in his bedroom, with the door closed, when she asked. Grace got up and raced to the hallway, knocking on the door waiting for him to open up. He wouldn't answer, despite the many times she called his name. It was a hopeless battle to try and get Will not to spend the night alone. But she wouldn't let up.

This is how they rang in the New Year.


	19. Reason to Believe

_"It's been a long December, and there's reason to believe  
Maybe this year will be better than the last..."  
~Counting Crows, "A Long December"_

_January 4th_

"Karen, are you okay?"

She looked up from her lobster to fix her gaze on her husband. On the surface, it was a perfectly lovely time; an upscale restaurant, ordering the finest wines to go along with the finest food. Perfect atmosphere, with perfect people—by Stan's socialite standards, in any case—in a perfect location. When the limo pulled up to the curb, she saw the look on his face, a look of pride and satisfaction that he could still pull something like this off on a whim. She should have loved it. But she was repulsed. And he wanted an answer.

"No. I'm really not." When she put her hand to her neck, the locket she normally wore wasn't there; she hadn't put it on since Stan got home from California. She felt naked without it, bare in a way that made her anxious and exposed, and it was in that moment that Karen knew what she had to do. She hesitated for a moment, thinking of what she wanted to say. If she thought about how this moment was going to go, she in no way took into consideration what she was going to say to him, how she was going to articulate herself. And before she could fully map out her speech, she started speaking.

"I hate lobster. You always order it for me because you think I like it, and I always eat it so you won't feel bad. I hate this restaurant. We may have the money, but I still feel like everyone is looking down at me, and I'm always uncomfortable here because of it. I prefer Pinot Noir to Merlot, but you keep insisting that Merlot is my favorite. It's not; it's your favorite. I hate the parties you throw. They're just for you, not for me. I don't know, nor do I particularly like, any of your colleagues, and every time you decide to have a little celebration, I'm forced to make nice with them. And their wives, women I don't want to have anything to do with. I understand that sometimes you do these things because it's what you think I want. And I appreciate that, Stan, I really do. But it's never what I want; it's what you want. I'm not like you. In any sense. You knew that when we first started dating, you saw it in the way I dressed and the things I liked to do for fun, but somewhere along the line, you tried to make me into a female version of you: someone who had to put up this front that you thought was socially acceptable to the outside world. I've tried to be that person, and you can't say that I haven't. I've tried so hard to make that person work. I've tried so hard to like that person. But I can't deny it anymore. I hate that person."

"Karen, what's gotten into you?" A mix of genuine concern and confusion filtered into his voice, but it didn't deter her. It was the question itself that kept her going. _What's gotten into you?_ Like she was a wayward child getting into a little mischief. Like her feelings, her emotions, could never be validated in any circumstance. Like she couldn't control herself. Well. Maybe she couldn't. But she had good reasons for it. And she wasn't going to stop now.

She laughed a little at his question. "Do you really want to know?" she asked. If she was going to do this now, she might as well fill him in on her motives behind it. "I had an affair while you were away, Stan. I wasn't looking for it. I didn't watch you leave and think, 'I've got to find another pair of arms to hold me.' I'm not going to tell you who it was with, because he doesn't deserve your scorn, or your hatred. I'm a big girl; I can take it all on my own. It only lasted a month, and when you came home, I wasn't with him any longer. But I did it because…it was easy." Simple, but it was true. "He let me be who I am. Who I really am. I didn't have to hide behind everything I turned into. That's what it's supposed to be, Stan. I couldn't take it anymore, and with him, I didn't have to."

"I didn't realize this is how you feel. I mean, I thought it might be, occasionally you would look as though you weren't satisfied, but you hadn't said anything about it, so I just shrugged it off. I didn't think it was going to be so much of a problem, but I've obviously got it all wrong. You should have told me sooner if you weren't happy."

They were silent for a moment, as if he needed some time to take it all in. Karen, on the other hand, felt as though she could breathe a little easier. This burden lifted off of her chest, she felt light, like nothing could stop her now. She looked at Stan for a moment; he didn't seem surprised. He didn't seem upset. He was blank. And that angered and relieved her at the same time.

He spoke again. "Karen, what do you want?"

It was the first time in a long time—maybe ever—that she could recall him asking her that. She hadn't heard it in so long that for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. What did she want? Oh, come on, Karen. You know exactly what you want. Just say it.

"I want him. I want a divorce."

With that, she pushed her plate away and stood up, murmured an apology to her soon-to-be-ex-husband and left the restaurant without looking back. She looked around at the other customers and no longer felt a sense of inferiority. She didn't care how she looked to these people; she was never going to see them again.

She couldn't help but smile at how simple it was to do that.

Karen hailed a cab back to the penthouse and rushed up the stairs to the spare bedroom. She found the jewelry box with the locket resting inside and put the necklace around her neck. It felt cold after a few days of not wearing it, and as she felt the metal warm against her chest, she thought about how she left things with Stan. How she said she wanted Will. That was true, and she couldn't deny it. But she knew that even if she didn't end up with him, that this was the right thing. She was free now.

She heard Rosario's voice calling for her. With a sigh, she made her way back down the stairs, meeting Rosario at the bottom. "Rosie, what is it?"

"Will left this for you after you left." She handed Karen a note and walked off as if it were nothing. Karen held her breath for a moment. He was here. He was here and she missed him. That could have been it. She could have explained herself, they could have reconciled. And she blew it, simply because she was trying to be a good wife, trying to be a wife in general, which inevitably failed at the mention of divorce. He probably came here to talk, and when he realized she wasn't here, left a note to let her know what she missed.

She blew it.

She opened up the note and ran her finger along the page, tracing his slanted handwriting without taking the words in. She thought back to the first note he gave her, each one after that. The one time she tried to reciprocate it, how that backfired. Karen almost didn't want to read this one. But she knew that if she didn't, she'd always wonder about what it said. She looked over the handwriting, reading Will's words.

_If I tell you that I'm sorry, will you meet me by the rink tonight?_

_

* * *

_

It was late. More and more people were starting to leave Rockefeller Center, leaving only a few strangers still on the ice. All he wanted to do was leave, but he knew that with his luck, she would come around the minute after he was gone. But time was running out. Until the lights on the tree went out. Will would give her until the lights went out.

He knew he overreacted when he overheard Karen's phone call with Stan on New Year's Eve. He saw that now. He knew full well that when she wrote him that note, that simple but powerful "I love you," that she meant it with all of her heart. His time with her made him see the real Karen Walker, not the one everyone else did. She could lie to everyone else in the world with the masks she walked around in, acting like they were her own skin, but at least there was one person who knew the person behind the costume.

But he blew it when he left her on New Year's Eve.

If he was one hundred percent sure that Karen was not going to show up tonight, he would have shrugged it off and simply gone over to the penthouse again, telling Rosario that he didn't mind waiting until she got back. But then he'd have to deal with Stan as well. He'd have to deal with Karen's false smiles and false pride at being the one on Stanley Walker's arm. He'd have to deal with the false Karen, the fabricated Karen, and after spending all this time making her feel like she didn't have to employ that side of her anymore, he didn't think he would be able to handle that.

He had heard the click of high heels on the ground near him, against the music being played on the speakers and the laughter of the few people left on the Plaza. He didn't think anything of it; this wasn't the Village, some downtown, fairly bohemian scene where the dress code was more thrift store jeans, flannel and Converse sneakers than it was sleek dresses that cost more than rent and shoes that added a good two or three inches to your height. Midtown brought in the mix of business with tourism, and you could never be sure of the general feel of the crowd. Will figured that he would hear those footsteps disappear to the other side of the Plaza just as quickly and easily as he heard them walking towards him. But they got closer and closer.

Then they stopped just as they were right behind him.

It couldn't be. Don't get your hopes up, Will. It could be nothing. Chances are, it was someone getting one last glimpse at the tree. But then there was the voice. That voice. Oh, that voice.

"It just occurred to me tonight that I never told you why you found me here in the first place."

He turned around at the sound of that voice, and couldn't believe she was actually here.


	20. Better Than the Last

_January 4th_

"Before he died, my father used to take us to the city every year, about a week before Christmas. Even though we lived upstate, it always seemed like some fantastic vacation getaway. But I guess anywhere that isn't your hometown can feel like that when you're six years old. Every year before we went back home, he would try to get the family to come to Rockefeller Center to skate, and every year it ended up being just him and me. It was one of the only times I ever had him to myself, and one of the only times I was ever truly happy as a kid. So when I finally settled in Manhattan, I decided to come up here at least once a year as a sort of memorial. Although because of that, this place took on a more somber air than it used to."

"So is that why you came here? To finally tell me why I found you here last month?" The look in Will's eyes and the sound of his voice weren't angry, but sad. She didn't know what killed her more: the fact that he sounded like this, or the fact that that tone came so naturally to him. Almost as if this is how his voice sounded since he left the penthouse on New Year's Eve.

Karen moved closer to him as she took a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolded it, showing Will the writing. "I got your note," she said simply, as brightly as she could, which was pretty dim in a situation like this. "But I'm not looking for an apology. I just wanted to see if I could catch you before you gave up on me."

It was all Will could do to keep himself from taking her in his arms and pressing his lips against hers. He wanted to—god, did he want to—but he couldn't tell if she wanted it, too. "I could never give up on you," he whispered, but it got lost in the wind and the music and she couldn't hear it. But it didn't really matter; all that mattered was that he said it, that he felt it. He heard her say she needed to tell him something. "What is it?"

"I left Stan. But I didn't do it for you. I wasn't sure that you would still be an option. I'm still not, but the fact that you're here makes me a little more hopeful. I left him because I knew it was the right move for me. I wasn't happy with him, in that house. In that life. I think on some level I always knew that but I was able to keep it down for so long because Stan was safe, Stan was what I knew. You made me realize that I shouldn't do that anymore. You made me realize that I'm only hurting myself if I keep pretending."

"I'm really proud of you. Some people never get the courage to make a decision like that." Will gave her a small smile as he said that. It was true; he had seen people all around him staying in less than desirable relationships simply because it was the easier option. It took a lot of strength to go your own way. "So where are you going to go?"

"Well I can't go back home after that. I was going to see if Jack was home and would let me stay the night, or maybe find a hotel. Look, I'm not after your pity. I just wanted to tell you what I did. To thank you. I know that sounds bad, thanking you for the demise of my marriage, but I don't think I would have been able to walk if it hadn't been for the time we spent together last month."

They stood there for a moment in silence. It had only been four days since they were last together, and already it seemed as though they had lost that intuition they had so effortlessly gained in December. Will looked into Karen's eyes and for a moment swore that he saw the same ache that consumed him. That desire to throw everything that happened New Year's Eve away and start again. But she started to back away. She started to leave.

"Karen, wait," Will said as he grabbed a hold of her arm. She turned to face him. "I…" Everything he had wanted to say to her when she got here slipped from his mind, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I still owe you an apology."

"Don't. I just…when I told you I love you—well, when I wrote it—I meant it. You should know that."

"I do. I made a mistake that night. I knew that you meant it, and I knew that you were only going through a formality when you were on the phone with Stan. But I heard you on the phone with him, and I heard how easy it was for you to sound like you still love him. And then I realized how easy it could be for you to pretend that everything we had didn't happen, and I couldn't take that. So I left. I'm so sorry. I love you."

It was the first time either of them had said it out loud. It wasn't how he wanted it to go. But he didn't know when the next opportunity would be. And he didn't regret it. Karen stood there, frozen for a second. It was then that he realized exactly what she said. She _meant_ what she said. She _meant_ it. Everything happened so quickly in their relationship, and while it would have taken any other couple longer to fall out of love, he would not put it past Karen to fall out of love in four days. He let go of her arm as his fell to his side. If she wanted to leave now, she could. At least he said what he wanted to for a month now.

She took a step and he hung his head. He didn't want to see her leave, although it would only be fair; she had to see him leave four days ago. Each footstep that rang out pierced him until he realized that they didn't fade away. They only got closer. He felt her touch at his chin, her lips at his own as she pressed her body against his. Will couldn't help himself. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight, held her closer, without any intention of letting go.

Karen looked into his eyes as they pulled away. "I love you, too," she said before burying her face into his chest, taking in his warmth, the way he completely surrounded her.

"By the way," he said with a lightness in his voice that she missed too much when it was gone, "your plans for where to stay tonight are good, but I think I have a better idea."

She turned her head to the side, heard his heartbeat as she spoke. "And what exactly would that be?"

* * *

He heard the doorknob turn, watched as the door opened to reveal a shadowed figure that he knew all too well. The silver of the heart-shaped locket around her neck still shone in the darkness of the night, and it made his heart swell in a way he had never felt before, but knew that he was bound to feel it again as long as he had her in his arms. As she made her way to the bed he could see the smile on her face as she held up a bottle of champagne and two glasses. "Since we didn't have a chance to do this the first time," she said and laughed. She climbed on top of Will's red sheets and kissed him before she tried to open up the bottle.

They were free to talk, they didn't have to hide. On the way to his apartment, Will told Karen how Grace knew everything, how she was nothing but supportive once she figured it out. Just as Karen said she would be, when they were on the phone Christmas Eve. "I told you," she had said. It wasn't a defensive tone; it was more of the lightness of the fact that she didn't have to hide anymore.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do this for New Year's," Karen said as she poured the champagne into their glasses.

"Don't worry. We'll just make up for it next year."

"You're so sure that we can make it another year?" She knew both of their track records. They knew that they didn't have the greatest luck with relationships—hell, besides her three failed marriages, she couldn't remember being with another person for more than a couple of months; maybe that's why she married them in the first place, because they made it past the one year mark and she fooled herself into believing that they would make it for the long haul—but she tried to play it off as a joke. Karen knew that Will could hear the faint tint of worry in her voice.

He smiled as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I've got reason to believe," he told her. They clinked glasses, their own little toast to a new start.

The red silk of Karen's nightie ran against his skin as she settled herself in the crook of his arm. It was hard to imagine that a few hours ago, she was completely miserable, in a role she was frankly sick of playing. A few hours ago, she was in a completely different world. Right now, in Will's arms, it seemed like she came out of an alternate universe that could have been dreamt up entirely, and into the world she was meant to live in all along.

"You have no idea how happy I am to be here," she whispered.

Will kissed the crown of her head. "So does that mean you're going to stay?" he said playfully.

Karen looked up at him, into those warm brown eyes, and let out a sigh of peace. "I'll stay as long as you'll have me."

"Then it looks like you're going to be here for a while."

"There's no place I'd rather be."

There had been so many times in Karen's life when she said that sentence. She had said it in the arms of other men, on honeymoons. During trips to exotic places she hadn't necessarily wanted to visit. She didn't mean it all the other times she told whichever forgettable face was in front of her at that moment. But it was different now.

Now, she meant it with all of her heart.

She had no idea where they were headed. She had no idea how everyone around them was going to react—sure, Grace was supportive, but you can't expect that from everyone. All she knew was that December had led to something brilliant. All she knew was that in his arms, everything was okay. All she knew was that she had a feeling that it could stay like this for as long as they would have it, and she didn't want to let it go.

She had a feeling that this year would certainly be better than the last.


End file.
